


Uncle Maurizio

by Dragon_Mage



Series: Hope [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Betrayal, F/F, F/M, M/M, Murder, kidnap, raising a brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:19:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Mage/pseuds/Dragon_Mage
Summary: Maurizio finds himself in a tight situation when Grey tries to off him and another Spy. He rescues the child, but loses the mother. With Grey after him, despite there being no apparent reason to harm a little kid, Maurizio takes a chance on his homeland and moves with the girl to Italy. They settle in a town where he hopes to blend in and hide his 'niece' from Grey Mann. Raising a kid is not easy, especially when you're a bachelor with no records and a face that does not match his age.The troubles he faces being an uncle and hiding a child are almost more than he can handle. From childish tantrums, to nosey neighbors, to unwanted assistance, to cunning spies. Can he keep her hidden and survive while doing it?





	1. The Stolen Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a new installment of Mann Co Productions! I hope you enjoy this one. It'll be in a series, but I do not have the notes with me, so I will post the name of it at a later time.
> 
> This story starts between 'Love Extensions' and 'Men of Red' (for those of you following my work) and continues on as an explanation for what happened to certain characters, especially Esperanza.

Toronto, 2011

The Spies seated on the opposing side were sending him death glares. These death glares were not dissuading Maurizio though. Rather, they made him feel more ready to take part in this venture. He would not be turned away so simply.

“Why should we trust you?” one growled, plucking at the gray jacket he wore.

All three of them were clad in the same dark gray attire, looking like some group of dim mourners. Maurizio managed to make his attire stand out, to set himself apart, with a black fedora on his head and white spatz on his feet. The others had resigned themselves to the drab grays of the uniform, so that they just sort of blended in. He could not have told them apart, even if he knew their names.

“I did not ask you to trust me,” he made his voice angry and mean, “I demanded to take part.”

They both frowned at him. One lit up a cigarette, while the other spoke. “This task requires more trust than we’re willing to give you.”

“I understand that but-” he was cut off as the one speaking waved his hand.

“This is not a question of whether you would willingly turn in the information, or even try to kill them,” the one speaking explained. He stopped to light himself a cigarette.

The other took up the chance to speak, “This kind of sensitive information is not something we could trust with somebody who has never even been trained to handle interrogation.”

The first man nodded, “If they drilled you, you might refuse. However, if it is a Spy, he will make you give him information without meaning to.”

Maurizio frowned, deepening the curl down of his lips. It felt so odd, as his mouth was used to smiling all of the time. Frowning and pretending to be curt and rude was just not cutting it for his usual style.

“You demean me, and give me no credit,” he told them, a bit angrily.

“Such is the way of Spies,” the second man said, “This isn’t meant to be fair. This is work.”

“And it’s work I’ve been doing for years!” Maurizio growled at them.

The sudden bump of the car cut him off. His head bumped the ceiling of the car and he paused to rub his head, pushing his hat aside. He put his hat back in its normal place and turned his attention back to them.

“It’s not as if I have lived as long as either of you,” he admitted, “And I have not been doing this as long as you, no. But I have been doing this longer than either of you had when the war came around. Give me credit where it’s due. I can be of help, and I do _want_ to help. All things considered, I don’t think you’re going to find another friend who is as willing to just be helpful for this.”

The two other men exchanged glances. One spoke first, “Fine.”

“Fine?” the other almost spat out his cigarette.

“We may need somebody to drive anyways,” the first nodded.

“We can drive ourselves,” the second growled.

The first nodded, “And take care of her and the child? Not likely.”

The second hesitated. He was still glaring, but he seemed to be taking this information in. Perhaps he was seeing it from his partner’s point of view, finally.

“We can’t always be there,” the first man went on, gesturing towards Maurizio, “Somebody who can simply drive from place to place would be helpful to them.”

“Melisa can drive, you know,” the second man’s eyes narrowed more.

“Yes, but would it be safe for her to show her face in any car?” the first man pressed.

“In a reasonable situation, she could hide in the back seat of any car,” Maurizio nodded his agreement, “And as small as it is, if driving is helpful, then I’ll do that.”

“If you-” the first man started, but was hissed to silence by the second.

The door to the vehicle opened to show a butler’s attire on the outside. A small girl with a green tan dress climbed into the limousine next to Maurizio, before Grey Mann climbed in. The three Spies were silent as the girl settled herself between the withered old man and Maurizio.

The other two Spies looked from each other to Maurizio. Maurizio gave them a little shake of his head. He was not going to say anything. He was not even going to break the ice as he normally would. This time, he was just going to sit silent.

The door closed and they all shifted in their seats. The vehicle started moving again and all of the Spies took on a relaxed posture. In their natural state of fooling the man they worked for, while he was obviously aware that they were putting on airs, none of them felt bothered by the fact that the man held a briefcase, which no doubt contained papers and other bits of evidence pertaining to his plans.

Little by little, the Spies working for Grey Mann had been collectively working out what he was planning. None of them had the full story. Some of them were holding out. All of them had different goals for what they knew.

Maurizio’s goals sat with the men across from him. Ever since meeting them, he had found a challenge to truly get into the espionage part of his work. After exercising his skills, he had dug up more information than he could handle. Names aside, he knew they were unsung war heroes from the Allied Forces, and neither of them were criminals. Of course, having no record did not necessarily omit them from possible criminal activity, but these two were the good guys.

He felt rather humbled by what little he had learned. Not finding any connection that lent them their jobs in the wars, he assumed they were rogues back in the day, acting upon an instinct of justice that most boys wished to follow. He wished he could have ever been so great, seeing now how he had wasted much of his life, and associated himself with all the wrong people.

“Our meeting today is regarding some things,” Grey Mann’s words interrupted his thoughts.

The little girl between himself and Grey was wriggling. She was uncomfortable with the current seating situation, tending to prefer more room than even this spacious vehicle allowed her. Tolerating her every time they had to meet with Grey was exhausting, but their boss seemed insistent that his great granddaughter was to stay with him wherever he went.

“Grandfather! I’m claustrophobic!” she whined.

“I can move,” Maurizio tried to make himself as small as possible against the door at his elbow.

“Nonsense,” Grey gestured dismissively.

“Can we move onto what these _things_ we are meeting about are?” one of the other Spies spoke up.

“Ah yes,” Grey turned to the window.

The car became silent, waiting as it rolled to a stop. Everybody sort of leaned to look out the window, curious as to what Grey was looking for. Grey waited as somebody came to open the door. He climbed out, followed closely by his great granddaughter.

Maurizio did not pick up whatever Grey was saying. He was speaking to somebody outside of the vehicle. He was not sure if he should climb out, following Grey’s lead, or stay put. The other two did not seem to know either.

Grey looked back inside, glancing amidst the three Spies, “Which one of you is Antoine?”

There was a moment of hesitation, before one of the other Spies raised his hand. Grey motioned for him and he climbed out. Grey said something to the person outside again. He looked back inside at the other two.

“As for you two…I hope we never meet again,” he slammed the door shut and the locks clicked.

Maurizio panicked and grabbed the nearest door, trying to unlock it, “It won’t budge!”

Suddenly, the car started moving. It was going a lot faster than it had before. The breakneck speed was no doubt to get them far away from Grey.

“Fuck!” the other man exclaimed, as he tried to open another door, “None of these doors will open!”

“Shit!” Maurizio exclaimed.

Suddenly, a window dividing them from the front seat opened, “Locking mechanisms from the outside, suckers!”

Maurizio exchanged a look with the other man. There was nothing said in words, but the unspoken panic sent them both at the window. Maurizio grasped the sliding window to prevent it from closing, while the other man reached through to grab the driver by the throat. Still speeding along, the car started to swerve as the driver panicked.

“Shit!” Maurizio exclaimed again, “We need to get up there.”

“This window isn’t big enough for either of us,” the other argued.

Maurizio looked around, desperate for something. They needed an escape that was not the doors. They needed something to get control of the car too.

“There aren’t many options here, amico!” he said, feeling panicked, “No escape and no weapons!”

“Think outside of the box!” the other demanded.

He looked up to see the roof window. Curious, he touched a button and was surprised to see that it was not locked, it started opening. They had forgotten to make sure it was locked with the doors.

He turned to the other man, “Keep him busy!”

He climbed up out the roof and tried to balance as he crouched. It was difficult, as he almost fell right off. The car’s swerving movements caused him to jolt time and again. He needed to move quickly, before something terrible happened.

He stretched out, trying his best to stay tight against the roof. He carefully moved like a worm, inching his way towards the front of the car. He took a deep breath and reached over the edge.

His eyes hit the pavement and panic struck him. His head started to ache and his heart pounded in his throat. A surreal cold settled into his bones, leaving him with a sweat that was unexplainable.

Every crash and every accident came flashing through his eyes. The pavement moving past him was once a thrilling thing, with his car pushing faster than the other cars. But his memory did not recall the thrill of the speed, instead taking to heart those moments he had almost died, those many times he almost ended lives, as well as the times that he had.

His eyes burned and a tear dropped onto his hand. It sort of struck him, despite how small it was, and reminded him to reach for the handle. He was terrified, but that did not mean he did not have the opportunity to act.

Finding the front passenger door unlocked, he pulled the door open. Letting the door swing, he flung his legs around, using the momentum of the car. He closed his eyes as his arms reached out for the door and the roof to stop himself from falling to the rushing pavement.

“I can do this! I can do this!” he murmured in fear.

Surprise struck him as he caught himself, his feet catching onto the edge of the doorway. He flung himself inside and pulled the door shut, not wanting to get pushed out. He reached over the choking man and opened his door.

Adrenaline rushing through him settled him into a sort of lull, as he stopped the hand that tried to push him away. The hand retreated to grab a pistol, to which Maurizio had very little reaction, merely grabbing and twisting the hand to let the pistol fall out of the vehicle.

“The wheel! The wheel!” the Spy still grasping the driver’s throat shouted.

“Just a moment,” Maurizio positioned himself, ready to take the driver’s position in one swift movement. He took a breath and pulled back his body to throw his momentum at him, “Let go!”

The hand released the throat and Maurizio’s entire body shoved the driver right out of the car. Without missing a beat, he grabbed the wheel and put his feet on the pedals. He brought it down to a steadier pace, slowing the vehicle by increments. Once he had fastened control of the car, he grabbed the door and pulled it shut.

“Should have worn a seatbelt,” the man in the back laughed.

“Yea, no doubt,” Maurizio chuckled with agreement. He could not be as humorous as he usually was at this moment. His entire body’s capacity for energetic commentary was drained from his being.

“Shit, she has to be moved,” the other man suddenly said.

“What was that?” Maurizio put his seatbelt on, not wanting to make the previous driver’s mistake.

“We have to get to Melisa’s house, _now_!” the other man came to the window to speak to him.

“What about Antony?” Maurizio asked, “Shouldn’t we go back for him first?”

“Antoine will be fine,” the man said dismissively, “Grey likely knows where Melisa is. He’ll kill _her_ and the baby.”

Maurizio gasped, realizing where this was going, “How do we get there? Where do we go?”

The other man hesitated, “Head South. We’ll have to take the fastest route over the speed limit.”

“Alright!” Maurizio shifted gears, “Buckle up! And keep me posted about the turns!”

Maurizio’s fear, as well as his exhaustion, disappeared in the back of his mind. He had an important task to get done and he was not letting anything deter him. He listened carefully for each direction. He kept the vehicle at a high speed, eyes darting around for danger, and his hands patient with the familiar sensation of a leather steering column.

“Here it is! Left!” the man shouted.

Maurizio had to flip a U turn and slow the car way down as they pulled into a ranch. Sheep and goats came calling as the car pulled up through the driveway. All the while, Maurizio tried to catch the breath he had not known he was holding. The surreal change from speeding through the streets to get here to slowly driving through an ever growing herd of sheep and goats was haunting.

“Unlock the door!” the man in the back called out.

He quickly searched over the buttons, and pressed every unlock button he could find. He rolled to a stop as the Spy in the back threw open his door and ran towards the house. He put the vehicle in park to hurry after him, but not before he closed the doors to prevent livestock from getting inside.

He hurried to the porch to see that the man had already been greeted by a little five year old. She seemed to know him well enough, but immediately shied away from the newcomer.

“Where is your mother?” the other Spy asked.

“She is changing the heater vents,” the girl replied, pointing to the door.

The other Spy quickly went inside. Uninvited, Maurizio felt it would be best if he remained outside. Consequently the girl did the same. She stared at his feet, as if his choice of shoes was bizarre.

He cleared his throat, “You have a lot of sheep.”

She turned her face up to him, “Your voice is funny.”

He frowned, “Haha funny?”

She shook her head, “No, just funny.”

The door opened and the other Spy came barreling out with one hand on the mother’s arm. She yelped with surprise as she was dragged out of the house by the man in his panic. He gasped, causing Maurizio to turn around.

His heart dropped as cars pulled up and armed men leaped out. They already had large guns at the ready, pointing them at the house. Maurizio grabbed the little girl and ducked down, pulling the porch’s table down to use as a shield.

“Get down!” the other Spy yelled, just as the bullets began to pellet the house.

The little girl screamed and cried, bawling in fear at the horrific sound. Maurizio held onto her, letting her scream, but not letting her go where danger was. She cried out for her mother, but her mother could not respond.

Then the shooting suddenly stopped. Maurizio peered over to see the woman’s body lying on the porch in front of the door. Next to her, the other Spy was groaning and clutching his injured hip. Regret and terror struck him, but he still did not let go of the child.

“Go!” the other Spy called to him.

“What?” he looked to the other man, looking at his face, as if for the first time.

“Get out of here! Take her! Don’t turn back!” the Spy shouted, “Protect her no matter what!”

Maurizio felt like he was out of breath, as the bullets came hailing down on them again. The other man rolled out of the way, but the woman’s body was still. He closed his eyes and tried to shake away the recent memory of her death.

“Mommy! Mommy!” the girl squirmed and screamed, “I want my mommy!”

He took a deep breath and turned the girl around. He pulled her front against his. As the bullets stopped, he started to speak, “Mommy is hurt. We have to leave. I’m going to protect you, but you have to trust me.”

She quieted down, burying her face against his chest. Without much time, he sprang to his feet and leaped over the side railing of the porch. He dropped into the bushes and waited as the house was pelted with bullets again.

He took a deep breath, listening to her little squeaks of fear. She was much quieter now though, and she clung to him for dear life. It was relieving to know that she was giving him this much trust to protect her.

Once the bullets paused, he pushed off of the side of the house and darted for the next line of cover. He heard voices shouting, and some footsteps heading his way. He held the girl with one arm and pulled out his revolver with the other. He was not giving up this fight so easily.

He took another breath and ran for the next cover. He turned to check behind him, making sure nobody was right on his heels already. Then, he ran again, this time hopping a fence and running across the neighbor’s hard.

He heard the gunshots, but he did not feel the bullets. He took this as a blessing and kept his feet moving, lest he fell in his luck. One hand kept a hold of the revolver though, not risking that there might be somebody in his way in the near future. His other arm held to the girl tightly, but honestly she was doing most of the gripping when it came to keeping her there.

He kept running, passing over several properties. He finally stumbled into a barn, unable to keep running. He was tired and so out of breath. He hefted the girl to her feet but she screamed and clung to him. His body was so tired of carrying her. He needed a break.

He raised his head to see a car covered in a blue tarp parked there in the barn, “We’re in luck.”

He began uncovering the vehicle, pulling from the child’s grip. He was surprised to see a street racing car, the kind of vehicle that got hidden away until it was time for a race. Scuff marks and scratches from its races adorned it from bumper to bumper, but they were aesthetic scars for the overall look of a street racer.

“Alright,” he grabbed the girl’s hand, “Time to get in.”

She looked at the car, “No! No I can’t!”

“What?” he looked at the car and then back to her, “Why not?”

“Mommy said not to!” she proclaimed.

“Mommy said not to? Kid, I’m trying to save your life here!” he protested with frustration.

She pulled her hand away, “Mommy said never to get into strangers’ cars!”

“But I- but you-!” he made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, “We don’t have time! And we don’t have a more familiar car!” He pointed to the car, hoping she might just go get into the vehicle.

“No getting into cars with strangers!” she spat, almost angrily.

“Okay fine! Fine!” he threw his hands in the air with exasperation. He got down on one knee in front of her and offered his hand, “Hi, my name is Maurizio. What is your name?”

“Esperanza,” she took his hand, as if an automated response.

“Nice to meet you, Esperanza,” he gave her a nod, “Now we know each other. And now you and I can drive together, yes?”

“Okay!” she smiled up at him.

He guided her to the passenger side and carefully buckled her in. It was not until he finished that he realized that he was dawdling and being slow. In fact, he was growing weary. His body was slowing down and he was needing sleep now more than ever.

He groaned as he climbed into the driver’s side and buckled up. He tried to shake it off as he opened up the steering column to get it started. Once it rumbled to life, he did not even bother with the barn doors. He just bumped them open, letting them swing freely as he pulled out.

“Hold on!” he told the girl as he peeled out onto the street.

“This is really fast!” the girl shouted, in a tone that mixed fear with thrill.

He glanced in the rearview mirror to see that Grey’s lackeys had seen them pull out and they were just starting to give chase. That was fine, because he had the head start anyways. It was not like he needed it either, as he put the race car into gear and stepped on the pedal.

“It’s about to get a lot faster!” he told her, with an excited smile.

The sheer thrill of speed got his heart pounding. Knowing this car could take the speed, he let it take the highest gear. He did this while watching the other vehicles fall behind. He had a smug grin on his face and even chuckled a bit at the sheer audacity of the other cars to try and catch up.

He chuckled, as he made his way up the winding road, back towards the urban areas. That turned out to be a mistake. His gravest mistake yet, and he had only just acquired the duty of taking care of this little girl. He would not let them get her though.

He reached over to touch the girl’s arm, as if to reassure her. Mostly it was for himself, to remind himself that he had a duty to her and to her family. Her mother was dead, her father was gone, and there was not much hope of turning her over to her godparents either, given they had the same fates.

He tried not to think about any of it. He did not want to remember Melisa dead. He did not want to imagine the other Spy on the floor with glazed eyes and bullets in his body.

Instead, he focused on the cars getting in his way. He slowed down a bit, but kept a steady fast speed. He did not want to lose the ground he had gained, after all. But, weaving through these vehicles was proving difficult, all the way to the first stoplight.

“No no!” he cried out, honking his horn at the old lady who pulled to a stop at the yellow light, “Drive through it!”

The woman completely ignored him, as if deaf. He rammed his frustration into the steering wheel, until the light finally turned red. He sighed and flopped back against the chair.

“Great, that’s just great,” he mumbled in Italian.

The girl in the passenger seat giggled. He looked over to see her staring at him. Her eyes were so wide with wonder, he wondered how she could ever blink. She must have been staring at him for a while too.

“Glad you’re easily entertained,” he switched back to English for her sake.

A glimpse of men in black suits caught his attention. He glanced in the rearview mirror to see them trying to weave through the cars. It would not be too long before they were upon him, trying to break through the glass and kill or take the girl. They would kill or maim him.

The light suddenly turned green and the woman moved out of his way. He smirked with delight, “Not today, suckers!”

He pressed the pedal to the floor, delighted in the purr that the engine emitted. The thrill made his heart pound as he weaved through the city’s cars, escaping the men who were coming for him and the girl. Each turn provided a new trail of thought. Each street was another path to a safer destination. That was, until he made a turn too fast.

He knew it was coming. He knew the feeling of the momentum pressing past the turn all too well. It came very quickly, but it came with a price.

He could only glimpse the girl for a moment, before his vision went blurry. He heard her scream but could not see or reach out to her. He had no way of knowing what was happening to her or what he could do to help her. He could not even help himself at this point. He closed his eyes and prayed that it would not go too badly.

His head hit the window, but otherwise, he was able to move. Once he was sure that he would be able to climb out, he turned to the girl. She was clutching her seatbelt for dear life, staring at the glove box with terror.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. That could have gone much worse than it had. Considering they just did an entire flip, things had gone very wrong. He did not have much time though, as Grey’s men in black would be after them soon.

He undid his belt then crawled over to take her out of the seat. He had to peel her fingers from the seatbelt and then deal with her clinging to him. She seemed to think it might happen again.

“It’s alright,” he assured her softly.

He carried her running, while the oncoming sirens still rang in the distant streets. He did not look around or turn to see what was going on behind him. He left the commotion behind, as he hurried off to find somewhere to calm down.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh groaned at the pain. There was a bullet in his hip and another in his lower leg. He also had nick marks from the burns of passing bullets.

Nearby laid Melisa’s body. She was still and lifeless. The need to be distant was gone, as the memories of her wonderful personality came flooding back to him. She was family, and now she was gone. He took a deep breath on that thought, hoping and praying that in some way a piece of her was saved by sending the girl off with Maurizio.

Footsteps came up the wooden steps of the porch. He did not have to look to know who was coming. He would have expected no less than Grey Mann and Antoine next to him.

He looked up to see that the gun pointing at his head was in Antoine’s hand. He frowned, “Your traitorous actions come with surprise.”

“You were right, he _did_ lead us right to them!” Grey smiled, mirthfully. His fingers steepled as he glared down at Hugh. He turned to look up at Antoine, whose face never changed from irrationally irritated. “Kill him,” Grey commanded.

Antoine slowly turned his eyes to the man, “You don’t want to interrogate him?”

“The two aren’t aligned,” Grey said, holding up two hands to represent two different Spies, “You said so yourself.”

“You think he knows nothing more?” Antoine asked. He was unmoving as he gazed at Grey from the corner of his eye.

“Do you think he knows where the girl has gone?” Grey growled.

“No,” Antoine shook his head just a little.

“Then kill him,” Grey turned all the way around, hands folded behind his back.

In the moment that Grey’s feet were moving, Antoine shifted his foot. Down his leg something slipped and he jolted his foot to kicked it across the porch. Hugh’s hand closed on it before Grey’s feet stopped moving, so that his old ears did not even notice the foreign noise.

“Kill him,” Grey repeated, “And then go take care of that brat in sector seventeen.”

By the time Antoine’s eyes turned back to Hugh, he had already opened the watch. He looked at the dead ringer then up at the other Spy, giving him a firm nod. The thing was ready to activate, he just needed the killing blow. He closed his eyes, preparing for the painful blast. The bullet sang and he quickly moved to get away from the dummy as well as from the house.

He leaped off of the side of the porch and ran the opposite way that Maurizio had. If Grey ever suspected this, he would have looked for him in the direction that Maurizio went. He would no doubt assume that Hugh had gone after Maurizio.

He ducked behind the neighbor’s hedges before the timer ran out. He listened carefully to the noises at the house. He dared not breathe or move from this hideaway, as Grey’s men stomped around.

“It’s done,” he heard Antoine say.

“Good,” Grey replied, “Let’s be gone from this miserable place.”


	2. Uncle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maurizio starts a new life with this little kid. What better place to be than his home country? But, to keep from certain suspicions, he keeps his distance from his countrymen by playing American. It would not do to have them curious about a little American girl staying with an Italian bachelor anyways.

Rome, 2013

Maurizio walked hand in hand with the little girl, as they made their way to the schoolyard. Today was a big day at the new school, after finally moving into their new house. Their new, more settled, life had just begun. It was a splendid day, in spite of the gray color of the clouds. Nothing would stop him from smiling, or her from skipping around.

“Remember what I told you,” he said to her.

“No fighting,” she replied, “Be a lady and be courteous.”

“That’s right,” he smiled at her, “And if anybody gives you trouble for your Italian?”

“I give them trouble for their Greek!” she proclaimed.

“You’re learning Greek?” he frowned, feeling a little concerned, “I thought this school was going to teach you French?”

She shrugged, “Same difference.”

“Not really,” he paused at the gate to open it. He wanted to be able to help her with her French as much as he wanted to help her with her Italian. She was coming along slowly, but she still had to go to school.

After opening the gate she immediately began to drag him along, “Come _on_ Maurice! We’re gonna be late!”

“We’re early though!” he protested.

“I wanna meet the people!” she argued, almost falling over as she tried to pull him. She would have fallen over if he let go. “Move your big butt!” she bounced, trying to get him to move faster.

He chuckled, “Where did you get this vocabulary?”

“Johnny from daycare says that if you have a big butt, you have to move it faster,” she said, eagerly bouncing and pulling on his arm, “That’s what they teach in music lyrics! Johnny’s mom lets him listen to music like that.”

“Johnny huh? Tell Johnny to watch his mouth,” he scorned.

“I don’t wanna! Come on!” she tried her hardest to pull him along faster, but it did not work.

He sighed as he followed her into the school building. It was a quaint little school that had a decent number of immigrant kids. With that, they would barely notice the little girl from America. Of course, she would have as difficult a time as any other kid, as they came from various other countries, mostly in Europe. It had been a prime reason for picking the school, as they would not take notice of the girl who did not stand out among immigrants.

“Come on, Maurizio!” she cried out as they walked down the hall to the backyard area. This had more of a playground and was full of children, a sight that dazzled seven year old Esperanza. “Can I go play? Please?”

“Give me your bag,” he held out a hand. She quickly put her bag in it and ran off. “And don’t tear your dress!” he called after her.

“Oh, you are American?” the sweet lilting tone of an Italian accent, tinted by the lack of practice in English asked him.

He turned to the woman, finding a small petite thing looking at him. He opened his mouth, about ready to turn on the charm and correct her in Italian. That was when he remembered that he was supposed to be Rodney, the American mechanic that moved to Italy with his orphaned niece.

He took a breath and smiled, “Yes of course. Excuse me, my head was elsewhere. I’m Rodney, Rodney Almick.” He held out a hand to her in greeting the way an American would in automated response to a first time meeting.

She accepted his hand with a smile, “I’m Cristine. This is my son Cristoforo.” She reached down to pat the head of a child hiding next to her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Cristine,” he smiled at her, then at the boy, “Cristoforo?”

The boy shyly ducked behind his mother’s skirt. Maurizio chuckled, turning his attention away from the shy boy to give him space. He turned to the mother’s face, admiring her pretty complexion.

“He’s really shy,” Cristine explained.

“I see,” he nodded.

“He’s a sweet kid though. He has been looking forward to making new friends here at school,” she said, turning to address the child, “Aren’t you?”

The boy stared up at her with big bug eyes. He did not seem to understand a word she was saying at the moment. He probably did not know any English.

“Anyways,” she turned back to him, “I hope he learns a little something more than just one two three at this school.”

“Me too,” he nodded.

“You have a child here? How old?” she asked.

“Oh! I mean…I don’t…but I…my niece,” he tried to explain.

“Mauriiiiiiiizioooooooo!” Esperanza came barreling into him, as if trying to knock his legs out from under him.

“Slow down!” he told her a touch scornfully.

“Maurizio! You gotta come see this! Maurizio, there’s this kid with a big balloon that’s way huge!” she used her arms to gesture.

“Maurizio?” the woman blinked, confoundedly.

“Oh…that…um…Esperanza uh…well it’s an Italian name,” he explained.

“Yes?” Cristine folded her arms.

“My family usually gives its kids Italian names, but my uh…mother decided against it for my generation,” he went on nervously, “But uh…the family likes to keep its traditions…so grandmother called me by Maurizio. It just kind of stuck for the little ones.”

“Oh!” the woman looked from him to Esperanza and back, “That’s uh…”

“It’s an American thing,” he went on hurriedly, “Grandmother came from Italy, so she preferred names she could pronounce. You know, like Maurizio.”

She nodded, “American traditions are…odd…”

“Heh…well…grandmothers…you know?” he shrugged with a smile, hoping she was taking all of this in stride.

“Whose grandmother?” Esperanza stepped on his foot. She stood on it but it had no effect through his leather shoe, so he just stared at her. “Whose grandma?! I thought your name is French!”

He nearly facepalmed at that. He was certain that they had rehearsed that he was Rodney and not Maurizio more than a hundred times since they had arrived there. Still, she did not catch on that the new name was supposed to be used.

He managed to take this into stride, “ _Your_ name is French. Your mother named you Esperanza, for hope.”

“Oh! That is very similar to the word for hope in Italian!” Cristine exclaimed.

“Oh really?” he decided to humor her, “What is the word?”

“Speranza!” she smiled back at him.

“Speranza!” the little girl bounced on his feet.

“Are you quite done dancing on my toes?” he asked her.

“No,” Esperanza gave him the cheekiest smile he had ever seen on a child’s face.

“So this is your daughter?” the woman smiled, motioning to Esperanza.

“This is my niece,” he corrected gently, “Esperanza.”

“Well,” she turned to the little girl, “Nice to meet you Esperanza!”

“Nice to meet you too,” Esperanza tried to mimic some sort of accent, as she gave a little curtsey.

“What accent was that?” Maurizio teased.

“French!” the girl squeaked adorably. His heart was melting to the floor as he chuckled at her.

“Aww!” Cristine was just as easily pulled in by Esperanza.

“Alright,” Maurizio turned his full attention to the little girl, “I have to go to work now, okay?”

“Okay!” she smiled up at him.

He handed her the book bag, “And remember, be a good girl.”

“I promise!” she said, a bit exasperatedly.

“Kiss?” he tapped his cheek.

He bent as she hopped up to peck him on the cheek. “Bye Maurizio!” she shouted before running off to play with her book bag in hand.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. That bag would no doubt come home covered in dirt and grime. He shook his head and turned to Cristine.

“It was nice meeting you,” he said.

“Same here!” she smiled and nodded in agreement, “See you around!”

He chuckled, “See ya.”

He headed back through the building and out front to the street. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he strolled along the old pavement towards his new job. The mechanic shop was questioning of him upon his arrival, but he was sure he could make a decent enough impression by the end of the week.

He was happy to find that it was well within walking distance. He would be able to swing by the school and walk Esperanza home, rather than trust the streets. It seemed like a safe enough town for little kids, but that did not mean that there were no unreported crimes going on. It would never be in plain sight, but he would prefer it not to be.

He made his way down a series of backroads, staying well out of the way of the passing cars. It was a nice quiet town. He could finally relax a bit, and Esperanza could start having a decent childhood. After about two years, he could finally put the past behind them, if just for now.

He arrived at the shop with a tune in his whistle. He waved at one man who shot him a glare, headed into the office. He kept up his usual chipper mood. It never failed to impress others, how he could always be cheery. It might piss them off or make them happy, but either way they were impressed.

“Hi boss!” he said, using the most minimalistic Italian he could. It was almost childish in its own way.

The man rolled his eyes up to look at him, “If you’re looking for an easy job this ain’t it.”

He smiled, pretending that he did not understand enough Italian. The man sighed and got out of his chair. He patted Maurizio on the shoulder. “Come, I’ll show you around,” the man led him through the door and into the shop.

They started with the general layout, as well as the people he would be working with. The man went on to try to name each piece, using its Italian name. Maurizio rebutted with the name of each tool in English. After that, the boss went over a few protocol procedures and made it clear that he was on probation for the first few weeks.

“Got it boss!” he gave the man a thumbs up.

“Now go help uh…” the boss glanced over the men already working on cars, “Sal. Go help Sal.”

He nodded and approached the indicated worker. He was trying to loosen a piece off of a car lifted overhead. It popped off just as Maurizio approached. He chuckled at himself for flinching when it made a noise.

“What do you want, new guy?” Sal asked in Italian.

Maurizio rolled his eyes, taking a moment to think of how an American might interpret that and respond to it. He used English, “Ah…boss man asked me to help you out.”

“Oh yea? What can you do?” Sal responded in English.

Maurizio shrugged, “Whatever you need. I’m here to work.”

Sal frowned, picking up a rag to wipe his hands on. The rag was as filthy as his hands, which meant that the cleanliness did not improve. That was not necessarily a problem for Maurizio, as the smell of oil sank into his senses. It had been so long since he legitimately worked with cars in a shop. It felt like he was walking back into a part of his old home.

“Here,” Sal pointed to a box of tools sitting by the wall, “Sort those. We got them mixed up. Sort them by size.”

Maurizio frowned, recognizing the attempted belittling. He would not fight this fight just yet. He had to weigh the opposition first. He put on a pleasant smile and nodded, “Alrighty then!”

He went to the tool box and quickly started sorting. It was a mess of grease and oil. Any idiot would have sat down to clean off the grease, never thinking that these men could not care less about the filthy condition of their tools, given the filth of their work in general. Still, part of his old lifestyle came back in the form of disgust as he sorted through the dirty tools. He remembered sorting through his knives and guns, cleaning every piece and putting it back together in an orderly fashion. The mere indignity of leaving these tools in this state was starting to drive him crazy.

 

A knock came from the edge of the garage entrance, “Hey Salvador! How you been?”

Maurizio glanced up curiously at the newcomers. Only one was speaking, but there were two other men with him. He turned his attention back to what he was doing, not wanting to draw attention to himself. These men were here to see Sal, not Rodney, and Rodney was not supposed to be able to speak fluent Italian.

“Marco? What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here,” Sal said, looking very worried and scared all of a sudden.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re behind on your payments again, Sal,” the man said, tucking his hands into his pockets.

The boss came out of the office, “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here!” He was growling angrily.

“We’re not here for your shop loan,” the speaker raised his hands defensively, “But your boy Sal over here is defaulting on his loans!”

Maurizio chewed on the inside of his lip. Rodney was not supposed to understand what was going on, but Maurizio knew all too well. He knew exactly what kind of men these were, and they weren’t the type of men from the streets. These were men of high esteem, with high standards, and a lot of gun power and family connections to keep them from ever getting caught for their underhanded schemes. They would even frame it that they were doing good things for the community, never revealing the truth of their intentions.

The words were slightly different, changed from the older style of Italian, but the meaning remained the same. The veil may have changed color, but it was still a thin veil. He could remember the chatter of the men he worked for in the back of his car, discussing _loans_ and taking care of certain customers. He was sure that he had driven dead bodies around for them more than once. He was never told when or where that happened though, never being told what luggage contained what.

“You don’t come into _my_ shop demanding payments!” the boss growled angrily, “You wanna do business with Sal? Call him on his personal time. Pay him a visit in his free hours. I don’t care. Do _not_ come back to my shop!”

“You should really step off a bit, pal,” one of the other men who had yet to speak replied.

Maurizio felt dread in his belly. If he got involved, he was likely to get into some sort of trouble. That would certainly bring attention to himself. If he did nothing and his boss got into more trouble than he could handle, then Maurizio could lose his job and the income to support Esperanza. He had only just settled into this town and promised the girl a home, and he was not about to go back on his solemn promise.

He rose from his seat, dropping an alan wrench into the box. He walked towards the men speaking, “What’s going on? Are these guys harassing you?” He made sure to make his American accent clear, though he knew it might only get him into more trouble. A good Spy knew when to stir up trouble.

“Who’s the American spaz?” one of them asked the boss.

“You want trouble?” the first speaker asked in English.

“Go back to the tools, Rodney,” the boss said, gesturing to the box.

“When did you start hiring immigrants?” one asked the boss.

“Come on, guys,” the boss said, in an insistent tone.

“Our boss isn’t going to like this,” the first stated, shaking his head.

“Your boss doesn’t run my business, Antony,” the boss growled, “I suggest you get out before something bad happens.”

“Wouldn’t want something bad happening,” one of the gang snickered, as they took their leave.

The boss huffed and turned to Maurizio, “Listen, I know you’re a nice guy. I’ll just lay it on you straight. Keep your damn head down and I won’t shuffle you outta my shop.”

He accepted the scorn in silence. He dared not rebut. He just let his head hang a bit, make himself look ashamed, and scuffled back to working on the tool organization. He placed himself on a bench and was silent for the rest of the work day.

 

After his shift was over and he was sent on his way, he stopped by the school to take Esperanza with him. The girl looked like she had hit rock bottom, with the way she hugged her legs to her chest atop a table she should not have been sitting on. He ignored the poor etiquette and approached her. He plopped himself on the table beside her.

“Are you ready to go home?” he asked.

“Mmhm…” she finally moved her head up to reveal the gleam on her cheeks.

“What happened?” he brushed her round cheek with a knuckle.

“They called me **American girl**!” she proclaimed.

He was stumped for a moment, then he grew concerned, “But…Esperanza? You _are_ an American girl!”

“Not the way _they said_ it!” she exclaimed, growing a bit angry.

“Hey…it’s okay…” he gently rubbed her back while she pressed her face against her knees.

“They called me American girl and _laughed_ ,” she sniffled, pressing her face tightly against her knees.

“Okay, okay,” he continued rubbing her back, “Would you like to get some muffins?”

“Why muffins?” she croaked through a choking voice.

“You love muffins!” he declared, trying to make it sound like it was the most obvious reason in the world.

She looked up at him, sniffling. “I do like muffins,” she admitted.

“There, see? You like muffins. Let’s go get muffins! You’ll feel much better!” he smiled, hopping off of the table.

She held her hands out to him and he took them, gently pulling her. Her feet fell to the bench connected to the table, and she braced so that his pulling brought her up to her feet. She hopped down and took his hand, swinging his arm back and forth as they walked.

Slowly, as they walked alongside the street, the girl became more chipper. She sort of picked up a better mood. He smiled to himself, glad that she was not so upset anymore. She probably just put it into the back of her mind for now. In the meantime, he would just have to distract her from her woes.

Part of him wanted to ask her about her day, but that would not be doing a very good job of distracting her. He scratched his chin, noting a bit of stubble he had thought about growing out yesterday. Now that the itchiness was setting in, he was having second thoughts about keeping any facial hair at all.

“So, first day of work,” he made a noise and cracked his back, “What a day!”

“Tell me about work,” she said.

“I had to sort all of the tools!” he exaggerated, “And they were really messy and gross! I spent so much time in the bathroom scrubbing my hands, but they still smell like grease!”

“Eww!” she suddenly pulled her hand from his and flinched away from him, “Maurizio!”

He chuckled, “Relax! I cleaned my hands!” He snickered and shook his head at the little girl.

“So, I organized all of those tools and the boss was really happy about it,” he lied. The boss did not seem to actually care what he was doing on his first day at work. He hoped to rectify that by doing something more productive for the next day. “But, I haven’t had a chance to really impress him yet.”

“Why do you wanna impress him so bad?” she asked, “Because, he’s my boss!”

“Bosses are so bossy!” she scoffed.

He laughed and offered his hand. She took it, seeming to have forgotten about the moments before. They walked together, with their conjoined arms swinging back and forth with each step.

“Ooh! I smell muffins!” the girl started skipping, “Come on, Maurizio!”

He chuckled at her, as he stretched his stride, “Alright! I’m coming. I’m coming.”

“They’re so close!” she said gleefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I vote for Maurizio for best daddy of the year. Might beat out Antoine in the best Spy dad category.


	3. Growing up Too Fast, But Not Maturing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that Esperanza is growing up way too fast, but she is not maturing.

Rome, 2015

Maurizio came from the bakery with two boxes of muffins on one hand and a muffin in a wrapper in the other. Esperanza on the other hand was carrying three boxes and trying to eat the one she had come out of there with. It was comical to watch her try so hard to juggle between the single muffin and the boxes of hot, freshly baked muffins.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take a box or two off your hands?” he chuckled at the girl.

“No!” she exclaimed, with frustration, “I can do it!”

“Bye bye!” Mrs. Moretti called after them.

“Bye!” Esperanza called over her shoulder, straining with the boxes, “Thanks for the muffins!”

“Come back again soon!” the woman laughed.

“You know we will!” Maurizio called back to her.

“She’s nice,” Esperanza smiled up at him.

“Yea, well…we do spend a lot on muffins there,” Maurizio chuckled.

“Do I hear a thumping heart?” Esperanza asked, playfully.

Maurizio looked at her with confusion, “What do you mean by that?”

“Do I hear the wedding bells?” she giggled.

“No, you hear the bells of the Catholic church down the street,” he argued.

“Aw come on! You like her, don’t you?” the girl teased.

He was hardly affected by it, “She’s a nice lady…and is probably pleasant at home. However, I am definite that _Mr. Moretti_ would be mad if I even flirted with his wife.” He chuckled, shaking his head at the thought.

“She’s not a Misses anymore!” she said, a little too cheerfully.

“What? What does that mean?” he quirked an eyebrow at the girl.

“Mister Moretti cheated on her, and they have since been separated,” the girl said, putting on a bit of a dramatic tone.

“But still married,” he chuckled, again shaking his head at her. Such a goofball with weird thoughts.

“Getting divorced though,” she protested.

“I’m staying out of that mess,” he replied, “That’s just a whole lot of trouble.”

“I thought trouble was your middle name? Or isn’t it?” she teased.

He rolled his eyes. He must have said some sort of line like that so many times now. It was not even funny, now that he thought back on it. He had gotten himself close to trouble too many times for comfort. It came too close for comfort, and Esperanza soaked up every con and every trick like a little sponge. She was too good at learning, but not very good at picking up what certain skills were for.

“I’m pretty sure that we don’t need trouble to come knocking on our door at this time,” he assured her. She sighed, in an exasperated manner. He frowned at her, “What’s gotten into _you_?”

“You never do anything!” she exclaimed.

“I do plenty of things,” he argued.

“Not like…love things. You don’t even have a girlfriend!” she argued.

“I don’t need a girlfriend,” he put on a haughty air, “And you don’t need to worry about it.”

“How am _I_ supposed to get a boyfriend if I have to take care of _you_ all the time?” she whined.

“Wait what?” he stopped in his tracks and looked at her. She was only nine years old, there was no way that she should even be thinking about boys in that way.

“You act like you don’t need a woman, but face it! Uncle Maurizio, you got loneliness bad! And I’m the _only one_ putting up with you!” she said, almost scornfully.

He made a sizzling sound, “Ouch! Cruelty! The horror of it!”

“That’s what you get for holding me back from Bradston,” she said, a bit snidely.

“Bradston?” he raised a questioning eyebrow. That made up name sounded absolutely ridiculous.

“Yea!” she smiled, “He’s this really cute boy I wanna go on dates with! He has pretty eyes and curly locks!”

“And this kid is in your class?” he asked, warily. He tried to think back to times he had been to her class, perhaps he had met this Bradston.

“No silly! He’s thirteen! He’s going to high school next year!” she sighed, batting her eyelashes.

“NOPE!” he declared loudly, dropping the boxes of muffins. She gasped with shock and horror at what he had just done. “You are _not_ fraternizing with a fourteen year old boy!” he shook a finger at her.

“What? Why?” she demanded.

“You are _**nine years old**_!” he exclaimed loudly.

“So? I’m already a woman!” she shouted at him.

“Since when?” he scoffed, placing his hands on his hips.

“Since two months ago!” she declared.

“What the hell? The hell does that mean? You are _**nine years old**_! You are by all standards a child!” he raised his voice a bit more.

“Grace says that when you start your menstrual cycle, you become a woman! I’m a woman now!” the girl declared boldly.

That was the grossest thing she had ever yelled in the street. He cringed as he realized that they were shouting at each other in a street. Though there seemed to be nobody around, he was sure any random stranger on the street could possibly speak English an understand this conversation.

He took a deep breath and covered his face. Since when had she started this? Since when had this happened? There were so many questions and he did not have enough answers. It should not be possible that a little baby girl who was still a little twiggy thing could have transitioned with something like that.

“You are not an adult,” he shook a scornful finger at her again, “You are _not_ to see that boy. And you are not to see any boys! Am I understood?”

She scoffed at him, “You can’t stop me! I’ll do what I want!”

“No you will not,” he growled.

“Yes I will! Maybe I’ll…kiss him!” she exclaimed.

He accidentally barked a laugh at hearing her think that kissing was such an atrocity. Then again, there was no telling where a kiss would lead. He shook the thoughts from his head. It would probably just lead him to strangling the boy, screaming at him for being a devil’s spawn.

“Esperanza, you are grounded!” he declared.

“What are you going to do? Take away my phone? Oh that’s right…I don’t even have one!” she said, sassily.

“That’s enough lip from you, young lady,” he warned.

“I don’t care! I have no bones!” she turned and started marching.

Maurizio paused to snatch up the boxes he had dropped, then quickly caught up to her. She kept moving side to side to prevent him from walking with her. It was severely frustrating.

He followed her all the way home. The girl’s temper resulted in her banging and shoving things, then stomping up the stairs to her room. She did not even say anything to him.

“I’m calling the doctor and you’re going for an appointment!” he called up the stairs at her.

“I’m not going!” she called back at him.

“Yes you are!” he shouted back.

“No, I’m not!” she yelled.

“ _Yes_ , you are!” he shouted again, before her bedroom door slammed.

He sighed with exasperation, retreating to the living space to punch one of the couch cushions. He slammed the cushion into his face and gave a loud scream. Raising this child was frustrating beyond all reason.

 

It was much later in the night when he heard the feet upstairs. He was plopped on the couch downstairs, watching some news on the small television. There was not much to see other than the weather and some report about dogs being rescued that made him want to cry.

He listened carefully, tuning out the obnoxious anchor’s voice. Esperanza crept carefully down the stairs, but not carefully enough for him to not know she was creeping down. She crept across the floor, crouching low, with something dragging behind her, probably a blanket from the sound of it.

Suddenly, she popped out from behind the couch and yelped, “Boo!”

He was hardly startled. It was difficult to be startled, even on purpose, anymore. Most days he was watching his back frantically, always staying on guard. The stress of it left him too tired to care this evening. The antics of the little girl hardly disturbed him anymore, having gotten over his nervous wreck stage, regarding every time she fell or cried or both.

“You never get scared!” she whined.

He made a face, “Aaaa! Mafia’s come to get me!”

She giggled and climbed over the back of the couch. She fell on top of him, dragging her blanket over the back to cuddle with. It was the soft fuzzy one, with the little cartoon characters all over it.

“Can we watch cartoons?” she asked, as she found a sweet spot to lay in.

Grateful that she had stopped moving, he grabbed the remote and changed the channel. It flicked on to some wordless toon about a cat and a mouse chasing each other around a house. The absurdity of every movement and every injury was bizarre, but rather fun to get lost in. There was no story he had to follow, just an idea, and the concept of the cat getting hurt did not bother him because it was neither a real cat nor a real injury.

“Maurizio?” she interrupted his thoughts.

“Yea?” he replied in a hushed voice.

“Where do you think my mom is?” she asked. She sounded like she was about to cry.

Cry or not, Maurizio was the one who felt tears actually burn his eyes. He covered them with his hand, trying to push down the image that came soaring out of his memory. Among so many things, he tried to keep that haunting image of Esperanza’s mother and the other Spy out of his mind.

“Do you think she’s thinking about me?” she asked, sounding much calmer than before.

He cleared his throat, trying to force himself to speak clearly, “I think she’s always thinking about you.”

The girl sighed, seemingly satisfied with the answer. He closed his eyes, giving a silent prayer for having avoided such a line of questioning. Still, it did not leave him without a burden. Whether it be today or the next day, or the next year, he would have to tell her about what happened to her mother. He would have to tell her the secret he had been bearing for years.

She suddenly giggled, “Tom always forgets that Jerry’s smarter!”

He sighed and turned his attention to the television, where the mouse was apparently outwitting the cat. Violently, but without any realistic consequences.

“Hey Maurizio?” Esperanza interrupted the television’s noise.

“Hmm?” was his simple reply.

“Can we go to church?” she asked.

“Church?” he was surprised by the suggestion, “What for?”

“Just to go,” she shrugged.

“Um…well…sure,” he shrugged, “We can go.”

“Isabelle belongs to the Catholic church on the All Saints corner,” Esperanza said.

“Do you want to go there?” he asked. He knew the place she was talking about. It was a towering place, with giant bricks and a single bell in its steeple. He had not seen the inside, but he did not have to.

“Are we Catholic?” she asked.

“Well…I dunno what your mother was,” he shrugged, “My family was Catholic.”

“Can we go then?” she asked.

“Yea, sure,” he shrugged, “We can go then.”

“When will we go?” she pestered.

He sighed, “Sunday. Church has service on Sunday.”

“Alright, good,” she nodded, “Cause that’s when Isabelle is going.”

“Alright alright,” he patted her arm, “We’ll go to that church on Sunday. Now settle down and enjoy your show.”

 

Luckily, work did not open on Sundays, and that left the day available. Most Sundays, they went to the park or did odd things. Mostly, he tried to give Esperanza as much time as he could, to practice her Italian or French, to try new things in the town, to travel to the nearby city and see the theater. Today, it seemed that he would be introducing her to religion.

Walking down the street in their _Sunday best_ felt strangely homely. It was like he was back in someplace he belonged, wearing a suit and tie. Next to him, Esperanza switched between skipping happily and fidgeting with her dress, especially the decorative little scarf that tied at the front.

“Stop playing with it!” he told her.

“It itches!” she protested.

“Here,” he stopped and turned to her, “Let me fix it.” He undid the scarf and tried to lash it back to her neck. Somehow, he had forgotten how he did it the first time.

“Clothes trouble?” a woman asked them in English.

Maurizio looked up to see Cristine. Her son was walking beside her and she was smiling down at them. He never thought too much of her. In the past two years of being here, he had pretended to be a confused American living in Italy, they had talked quite a bit at parent teacher group meetings, especially at the PTA meetings, but he never thought much of it. He felt like he was seeing her in a new light, as the sun beamed down to halo her golden brown hair in a soft light that seemed to glow.

“My scarf itches and now Maurizio ruined it!” Esperanza whined.

“Well…here, let me try,” Cristine offered.

He handed her the scarf and watched as she gently tied it around the girl’s neck, in just the way she wanted it. Esperanza smiled happily, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome!” Cristine smiled back at her.

Esperanza turned to Cristine’s son and the two darted off down the street, as if from some unspoken message. Maurizio threw his hands up with exasperation. She was wearing her Sunday best, she should not be running in it.

“Aw, let her be, Rodney,” Cristine chuckled, brushing off the knees of her skirt, “Girls will be girls. They’ll probably just play their way down to the church’s front door.”

He sighed, “Probably.”

He looked to her to see that she was smiling at him, “Are you going to church then?”

She chuckled a bit, “Well, yea…I mean…it’s been a while since I have been. Lately, things just haven’t been alright though. I need to go pay a visit to God.”

“Ah…well…” he rubbed his neck when he thought about it. He rarely thought about religion, let alone God. It was not a very prevalent matter in his life.

“Would you mind introducing me to people?” she asked.

“Er…what?” he blinked at her with surprise.

“It’s my first time and I don’t know anybody else there,” she explained, “I’m in need of community.”

“Well…um…hate to break it to you,” he chuckled nervously, “But this is our first visit to the church as well.”

“Oh! I’m sorry…I just assumed. You’re American and all…I figured you always go to church,” she explained.

He opened his mouth to speak, then decided against what he was about to say and shook his head, “I don’t go to church.”

They started walking together. Maurizio tucked his hands into his pockets, and listened. Cristine just started chattering like there was no tomorrow. They met the kids at the church doors, which were wide open to welcome those who funneled in.

He took Esperanza’s hand, not wanting her to run off and cause trouble, to lead her inside. He kept a hold of her hand as they followed the aisle between the pews. The little girl immediately became dazzled by the lighting in the room, as the sun beamed through colored windows and lit up the parapets. The scaffolding held twin sets of baby angels on either side above the stage. The stage itself had every piece covered in fake vines and flowers. He figured that it was likely for the Springtime celebrations coming up, like Easter.

“Look at it!” Esperanza breathed, “It’s so big!”

He shrugged, “It’s nice.”

“It’s amazing!” she said, as they found seats with Cristine and her son, “I wanna come here every Sunday!”

“Are you sure about that?” he chuckled, “You’ll miss out on parks and theater.”

“Oh…I don’t wanna do that. I wanna come here _sometimes_!” Esperanza said, excitedly.

“Alright then,” his eyes shot up just in time to see the judgmental gaze of some older women.

“Don’t mind them,” Cristine said softly, “They probably judge everybody new to this church.”

He nodded in agreement, “You’re probably right.”

 

It felt like an hour before the actual sermon started. Esperanza was already fidgeting and frustrated when it began. She was none too happy about having to sit still and be quiet, as if she was in school. This was Sunday and she was not supposed to be in school.

The sermon lasted an hour and a half, before they were able to finally escape. Much to Maurizio’s dismay, he and Cristine were stopped by some ladies with friendly chatter. They first approached him, hoping to ask him questions. However, being Rodney, he was not supposed to understand very much Italian though, so he pretended not to understand, and that was when Cristine stepped in.

Maurizio fell back a bit, but was unable to escape. They either tried to speak English to him, or expected her to translate. Either way, he was expected to be there, pretending not to understand both the original words and the translations. To be honest, poor Cristine was doing her best trying to prevent him from knowing that they were being rather rude about wanting to know if the two of them were married. Emphasis on ‘yet.’

“We are not together,” he waved his hands, cutting off one of the women, “Not even a little. Nope. Just uh…know each other because our kids go to the same school.”

Cristine translated to Italian and the women understood the not married part, but did not seem to accept the rest of it. They almost seemed insulted by the whole affair. Maurizio was only feeling more insulted by these women.

“You could do better than a well uh…” one of the women said, thinking on what she wanted to add.

Cristine frantically tried to make it sound like the woman was just complimenting them, “She thinks we’re a cute couple and wants to know why we’re not dating. I mean, I’m not…you aren’t…we uh…” She got tongue tied as she realized the pickle she had talked herself into.

“It’s…uh…maybe we should go,” he suggested.

“He’s American, right?” one of the women asked.

“Yes, Rodney is American,” Cristine nodded to the woman.

“Why would you date an American? I get that it’s eccentric, but there are so many nice Italian boys you could be with!” another woman asked.

Maurizio felt his blood boil as he felt his will to just run out the door grow immensely. All the while, a little hand tugged at his coat. He tried to dissuade Esperanza, but to no avail.

“Just a minute, Esperanza,” he insisted.

“I wanna go home!” she whined tiredly.

“Just another minute!” he told her a bit more firmly.

“Go play outside for a few minutes, okay?” Cristine insisted, motioning to the doors.

The girl sighed with exasperation and rushed out the doors. Maurizio wished he could just follow after her. Woe was he, stuck there listening to old ladies be old ladies. This did not even seem that normal for old women. There was nothing caddy about the rudeness in their words, and Cristine’s desperation to keep it hidden from him.

It must have been an hour of listening to them. They were chatting up a storm, refusing to allow the two guardians of children escape to solace. When they finally did escape, they ended up walking the same direction, with both kids running out ahead of them.

“Well, that was something,” he commented, trying to break the ongoing silence between them.

“Sorry about that,” she winced.

“It’s not your fault,” he assured her.

“Yea but…it’s really awkward when people talk like that,” she said nervously.

He tried not to comment further. He needed her to think that he was stupidly unaware of how rude they were really being. It was awkward alone what somebody without knowledge of Italian would have understood about that conversation.

His eye was caught by Esperanza’s dress lowering towards the ground as she crouched. He raised his voice to carry towards her, “Esperanza! Mind your skirt!”

The girl looked up at him, then quickly shifted the hem of her skirt, holding it so that it would not drop into the puddle her and the boy were crouched around. They were pointing to something interesting. The boy grabbed a little stick and poked it.

Maurizio’s mind left whatever they were looking at. It could have been a dead frog for all he knew or cared. He felt a heated flush fill his cheeks as he realized that she was lifting her skirt a bit over her knees. If the boy even looked up for a moment he would have had a peak at her panties.

The conversation, or rather argument from before came back to his mind. Esperanza may have still been a little girl, but if what she said was true then she was already in a blossoming stage of maturity. At her age, not having any contact with women who had experienced the changes a woman goes through, the girl was woefully unaware of what was all of that was about or what it meant. She was also not paying mind to what she was doing with that skirt.

He rushed towards her, picking up a clip run to close the distance between himself and the kids. He scooped her up, effectively causing the skirt to fall down. He shifted her right into his other arm, pretending to be playing when she giggled and squirmed.

A strange feeling was still lingering though. He could only make it out as something akin to fear. A worry about the girl’s wellbeing and understanding of her body and social boundaries. Perhaps even a terror at the reality that this little girl was not so little anymore. That was actually a terrifying thought, and he would not be bashful to admit to it.

“No poking frogs!” Cristine scorned her son, following Maurizio’s lead.

Maurizio gave his mind some breathing room. Everything was fine. He had saved the girl this trouble. This little incident was likely isolated but he would have to be careful to teach her better in the future.

“You’re so good with her, Rodney,” Cristine said, falling into step with him, as her son trailed along with his hand in hers. He was squirming though, trying to get out of her grip. “You two always get along! I never see you fight or fuss! And she’s just the sweetest little thing, like you!”

Esperanza giggled and wiggled, “Did you hear that, Maurizio? I’m the sweetest!”

Cristine laughed lightheartedly, “Yes, and _Maurizio_ is sweet too!”

He blushed and cleared his throat, “Okay. Okay, I get it. You just haven’t seen her throw her fits though.”

“Me?” Esperanza squeaked with disbelief, “Throw a fit? Never!”

“Oh sure, and what was that last…what was it? Wednesday?” he jostled her playfully, “She’s the queen of fits!”

Cristine laughed some more, “I see!”

Esperanza wiggled out of his arm and ran around to the other side of Cristine and her son to talk to them. “Uncle Maurizio is going to be cooking tonight, do you wanna come for dinner?” the girl asked excitedly.

Maurizio felt a flush in his face and the hair on his body stood on end. What was this girl doing? It was out of line for her to invite somebody without talking to him first. This should have been discussed long before talking to Cristine. He was about to give the girl a thump on the head for her behavior, especially with how she had been acting out lately.

“Well sure, I’d love to!” Cristine said, with a cheery smile, “Just as long as it’s okay with your uncle.”

“Can they come? Please Maurizio?” the girl clasped her hands together and begged him.

Maurizio put his hands up defensively and put on the awkwardest smile. He fumbled as he searched for a plan of evasion, “Oh…no…you don’t wanna come tonight,” he protested waving his hands a bit, “We’re um…gonna have um…”

“You promised pizza!” Esperanza exclaimed.

“I…oh…uh…yea…” he stammered, trying his hardest to find a backup plan.

“Oh wow! You cook pizza at home?” Cristine asked, with an impressed expression.

“I like pizza,” Crisoforo suddenly spoke up.

“See? They _like_ pizza! We should all make pizza together!” Esperanza cheered excitedly.

“No no…you wouldn’t like it,” he turned his attention to Cristine, “It’s Americanized. You know? Not Italian pizza.”

“Uncle Maurizio!” Esperanza exclaimed loudly, “Pizza _is_ Italian!”

“Yes, but um…you know…Americans take stuff that was European…and make it…American,” he tried to explain.

“Well,” she glanced down at her son, “I don’t mind.” She looked to him with smiling eyes.

Why was this woman not getting it? The pain of defeat set in as he realized that he would be spending the rest of the day pretending to be American. It was set in everything he did to keep up the act, but it was nice to spend time cooking without having to worry about any other Italians finding out he could sing in Italian. It was nice to be able to make actual Italian dinners at home. It was nice to just be himself and spend a little time with Esperanza helping her with homework and studies.

Surely with all of the hints he was dropping and all of the expressions he was making, she would have gotten by now that she was not wanted. He surely did not want to have to cook for two more mouths. He was just not in the mood for that much cooking and cleaning.

Because, of course Esperanza would not want to help clean up afterwards. Homework would be her excuse. She would run off, pretending to be busy with math or home economics. Then when he went upstairs, he would find her goofing off. If he tried to make her help out, she would just spend the entire time bitching and moaning about how she needed to get her homework done and he was keeping her from it.

“Well?” Cristine batted her eyes at him.

He smelled trouble and he did not like it. No no no, he thought. He wanted to get as far away from a flirtatious, married woman as possible There was no way in the world that he was going to let her get close to him.

“It’s settled then!” Esperanza proclaimed, avoiding Maurizio’s oncoming anwer.

“What? Esperanza!” he exclaimed, with frustration.

“We’re making pizza anyways! There’ll be plenty to share!” the girl bounced around excitedly. She grabbed Cristoforo’s hand and started running, “Come on, Cris!”

“Esperanza! Get back here!” he called after her, angrily.

“Cristoforo, we have to go home!” Cristine called after her son loudly. She turned to Maurizio, who was hoping she might change her mind here and now. “I’m sorry,” she switched to English, “We need to get home and change first. He’ll destroy his Sunday clothes if I don’t get him changed. And…knowing his grandmother, it will be the end of getting nice clothes.”

“Right…” he hesitated, feeling disappointed that she had yet to take up his hints.

“Cristoforo! Come on! Time to go home!” he called to her son again in Italian, “Let’s go so we can prepare!”

“Okay mommy! Bye, Esperanza!” the boy waved to her, before running back to his mother’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maurizio is learning on the go how to raise a kid on his own. Esperanza wants a mother figure. Dear lord they need help.  
> Cristine does in fact have a super major crush on "Rodney."


	4. A Dinner Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't go well when Cristine and Cristoforo come to dinner at Maurizio and Esperanza's home.

Maurizio sighed, feeling distraught about the event he alone would have to deal with. He had to get the house cleaned up for company. He had to get the dinner supplies prepped to be sure there would be enough for everybody. Of course, he also had to make sure that the house had nothing laying around that could hint at his real identity. Esperanza’s stuff would be fine, since she actually was a native English speaking American.

When he finally had everything ready to start cooking, he went upstairs to wash up. It would not look decent to just walk around wearing what he normally would with company in the home. Besides, it was hardly like him to not groom himself before dinner time. He was carefully not to cut himself, as he shaved down the stubble on his jaw, leaving only the trimmed strip on his chin and a mustache on his upper lip.

“Ooh! Somebody’s getting ready for a date!” Esperanza threw the door wide open.

He flinched, almost cutting himself. He grimaced and gave her a frown, “It’s not a date. If anything, it’s _your_ playtime.”

“Then why are you making yourself pretty?” she asked, teasingly.

“This is my routine!” he spat.

She skipped off down the hall, speaking in a sing song voice, “Maurizio’s getting a daaate! Maurizio’s getting a daaate!”

“Noooo I’m noooot!” he mimicked her sing song tone, before returning to grooming.

 

When Cristine and her son arrived, the pizza was already in the oven and everything was prepped for arrival. Everything was sorted and Maurizio could relax knowing that she would not find anything that would hint to him being anymore Italian than “Rodney” ought to be.

Though, as he started thinking about it, letting Cristine and Cristoforo into his home, there were a few novels in French and a couple in Spanish that could hint at a much bigger knowledge of language than he had previously had her thinking. He did not need her to start thinking that he might have lied about his identity, or that he might even know more than he let on previously.

Panic set in and he quickly looked for a scapegoat, while Cristine was greeting him and handing him her coat and scarf. He had to keep her from finding out. Even a small hint of information could tell a person a lot.

“Esperanza! Your guests are here!” he made quick of pushing them off onto the girl, who came down the stairs acting frustrated. He did not have time to bother with them, and needed them to be distracted from him while he swiped the books.

“Maurizio!” Esperanza exclaimed, as he darted into the den.

He waited until they moved into the kitchen to investigate the smells, before he started snatching books. From his classical favorites, to some pieces about history, he tucked each book under his arm and hurried up the stairs. He was careful not to drop any of them, while ignoring the calls that came up after him.

He sighed a breath of relief when he had the books stacked on his bed. Nobody would go in here, not even the kids. He left them there and closed the door, just in case somebody walked by. When he came downstairs, he could hear them talking about him. He moaned, irritated and wishing this evening was over already.

“There you are!” Cristine greeted him with a smile.

“Uncle Maurizio! What kind of pizza did you make!” Esperanza asked, gazing into the flame inside the oven.

“I think I see lots of mushrooms on it,” Cristoforo said, joining the girl by the oven.

“You would know if you actually helped, Esperanza,” he told her, scornfully.

The girl gave him a pathetic look, “You didn’t say anything! Besides, I had a lot of homework to do!”

He gave her a knowing glare. He knew what this was, that this was the same song and dance as always. How any other normal parent dealt with this was beyond him. It was bizarre that he had yet to explode with the amount of bullshitting he had put up with knowingly.

He sighed and moved on to check on the pizza, “Not ready yet.”

“Esperanza, you should help your uncle more around the house!” Cristine insisted.

That was a surprising turn of conversation that got his attention. He was not sure why she thought that _she_ needed to step in with this particular topic. Perhaps she was done feeling awkward and wanted to add something to the conversation. He decided to step in and try to break down the tension with some pleasant banter, but before he could get a word out, they were talking over him.

“I don’t have time to help uncle with the house,” Esperanza whined.

“He works and cooks and helps you with homework!” Cristine argued pointedly, “When does _he_ have time to do any of that! I know for a fact that you brag about getting help! You should really try to help him out more.”

“I know,” Esperanza put on doe eyes that made Maurizio want to laugh, “I want to help. I just can’t. I have to go to school and do homework…”

“What about those times you spend playing with your friends?” Cristine offered, narrowing her eyes and giving the girl a knowing look. It made Maurizio feel stumped, as Esperanza got a guilty look under Cristine’s knowing glare. He looked on feeling stunned and a little amused that Cristine was putting Esperanza in her place more effectively.

“Am I supposed to have no social life?!” Esperanza suddenly exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exaggerated expression.

“No, you need a social life,” she admitted, “But, you have to help your uncle. It’s not fair to him to expect him to cook and clean everything. He works very hard doing…erm…what is it that you do, Rodney?” She turned to Maurizio with a questioning expression.

Had he told her what he does for a living before? Maybe, but maybe not. He could not remember. Either way it did not matter much, since he would have given her the same answer.

“I work at a car shop,” he explained.

“Oh,” she seemed a bit surprised at this, “You’re a mechanic? I didn’t know that. I’ve never even seen you drive a car!”

He paused, trying to think back on possible conversations where she might have asked about his work. He was sure he had not told her any other job. He certainly did not have enough drinks while around her to have ever blabbed about where he was from and what he had done.

“It must not have come up in conversation,” he shrugged.

“I’m sure I must have asked you at one point,” she pressed.

He frowned, “What would I have told you otherwise? I’m just a mechanic.”

She let it sit, but there was something odd about the way she did. There was something in her facial expression that was off-putting. He proceeded with caution, wary of the woman’s intentions for questioning his honesty.

“Maurizio’s car is red,” Esperanza informed her, as if it was the highest priority of information.

“I see,” Cristine nodded to the girl.

Maurizio started to feel that it was of utmost importance to change how the kid was talking. He was fed up, and did not need any more of whatever was going on with Cristine. She had to be dumb as a brain-dead goat, if she still thought it had been appropriate to press into being invited here, ignoring the hints to not come. A large part of him wanted to explode in a volcanic eruption of rage about this very irrational behavior.

“Esperanza, stop calling me that,” he told her sternly, “My name is Rodney.”

“But, your name is Maurizio too, isn’t it?” the girl said, with a silly innocent smile.

Innocence did not prevent him from growing more frustrated, with a burning anger in his belly, “My name is Rodney. I would appreciate it if you called me _Uncle Rodney_!”

“But I call you _Uncle Maurizio_!” she spat in response.

“He’s right though,” Cristine stepped up. Finally, she was being productive as a role model parent. “You should not call him something he does not want to be called. It is not nice.”

Esperanza huffed and folded her arms, “Fine! I’ll call you Rodney!” The girl walked away from the table, huffing and mumbling, “Even though Rodney is a stupid name.”

Maurizio suppressed an irritated growl. Part of him thought of throwing out the name Rodney for something more suiting. That would not work though, given it was supposed to be part of his legal name. It was all part of the act, but this kid just did not get the picture.

“Now, we can all sit down and relax while we wait,” Maurizio said, feeling a bit relieved that she at least conceded to using the name.

“Well…since we hadn’t discussed careers before, I’m a civil rights lawyer,” Cristine turned to him, wanting to resume the conversation.

“Are you now?” he did not like the thought of talking to a lawyer. Maybe being better at English would put him at some advantage here.

“I work with a lot of people from other countries,” she explained, “Visitors, ambassadors and immigrants like yourself.”

He forced a cheery smile, “Wow! That’s something! I’ll know who to come to if my rights are threatened!”

Her smile widened, “It’s better that we know each other, isn’t it?”

He nodded in agreement. He opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed that she was not done.

“You wouldn’t believe how many incidences happen to immigrants,” she went on, “I mean, there’s incidences with the police. Misunderstandings on the streets. It’s crazy!”

“Yea, I suppose so,” he shrugged, trying to picture what it might be like for somebody who did not understand Italy’s language and culture. It was likely a struggle for those who were not fluent or at least familiar with the language.

“You got it so lucky back in the States,” she went on, “People from all over the world getting along. I mean, I don’t agree with your country’s politics, but it is still better in regards to civil rights.”

That struck a chord in his memories. A raw burning anger built right up at her ignorance. The frustration chimed up and he wanted to yell at her. He was careful not to let on that he was taking deep breaths, pushing down memories of the way small town Americans acted towards an Italian who spoke their language very clearly. He used to try to imagine how it must be for his fellow countrymen who were not so lucky at knowing English well, trying to live in America.

He was careful with his breathing, “You’d be surprised. The way immigration goes in the States is very shaky. Civil rights are abused left and right.”

“I’m sure there’s a fair share of problems there,” she admitted with a nod, “But working in the civil rights de-”

“I don’t think you’re understanding,” he cut her off immediately. There was no way he was going to sit there and listen to her sing praises to a country that demeaned those who were just a little different. “America is a place with many diverse peoples who have to look to the common white man as somehow the superior and as the majority voice. America is a place where xenophobia is embraced as a naturally ingrained into patriotism. Having the slightest accent different from that common white man delegates a person as being from another person, and thus that person is treated as different or other, in demeaning and often rude ways, rather than as an equal.”

Cristine got a little hesitant. Her head dipped forward a little. He almost felt bad for his little rant of scorn.

“I guess you know a lot about civil rights then, huh?” she asked, a touch uncertainly.

He cleared his throat and thought, ‘No regrets.’ “It takes more than a few generations to separate people from recent immigrant ancestors,” he told her, “You experience…things…and the government allows it because you’re foreign.”

“What?” she asked, confused by his wording.

He cleared his throat, deciding to change the subject before another slip up occurred, “What about music? What kind of music do you like?”

“I like pop music!” Esperanza hopped up and down giddily.

“Me too!” Cristoforo added.

“Oh, I’m into jazz electro swing,” Cristine answered, “It’s really cool. It’s like jazz, but electronic, and it’s great for dancing.”

He felt stumped at that answer. For one, what the hell was jazz electro swing? For two, since when was jazz itself not something you could dance to? It sounded a little over saturated, like the over the top cartoons that Esperanza liked watching.

“I’ll have to share some of my CDs with you sometime,” Cristine explained.

“Indeed,” he cleared his throat.

“Maurizio only has boring old jazz and blues and stuff,” Esperanza commented.

“ _Name_ ,” Cristine commented, scorning the girl ever so slightly.

Esperanza sighed with irritation and repeated herself, “ _Rodney_ only has boring old jazz and blues and stuff. All that boring old people stuff.”

“That’s not true,” he argued, “I have plenty of dance music as well.”

“Sure,” Esperanza chuckled and rolled her eyes.

He sighed, “What kind of-” He turned to Christine to see her eyes lighting up.

“Why don’t you show us your music collection!” she said excitedly.

He clenched his jaw. Once again, she was playing right into the kid’s hands. All the while, Esperanza just have this cheeky grin.

He sighed and rose from his chair. He walked into the den, towards the book shelves where he usually kept those novels he hid. There was quite a bit of empty space there now. He crouched low to reach the lowest shelf, where he kept his CD collection. To his dismay, most of them were Italian or from some part of South America, though mostly Mexico. Esperanza kept her own collection in her room, so this was all of his stuff.

He took a breath and decided to wing it, picking something out that was good for dancing. He put it in the CD player and pressed play. He turned to find himself facing Cristine, and the two of them were silent for the first thirty seconds of the song.

“I think I know this song,” she finally spoke, twisting her expression to something of deep thought or concern, “It’s really old.”

“I heard it at the store one day,” he said, “And I just picked it up. Can’t understand the words, but I like the sound.”

She smiled, “It’s a…pretty good choice.”

She offered him a smile and started singing along. She was off tune and off beat, but it was fine. He tried to think of a way to make the situation feel less awkward without coming off as charming, or in any way knowledgeable of the Italian language. He could not think of anything though, so he just stood there in silence, while she experienced the song they had probably both heard from older generations who clung to songs from their youth.

When the song ended, he quickly stopped the CD player, for fear that the rest of these songs would make the awkwardness last. It just felt so frustrating to just stand there. In fact, it was almost kind of draining. Everything in his instincts, everything in his mind, screamed that he needed to start dancing, to sing the lyrics as he knew them so well. He needed to dance and spin with a partner, regardless of what kind of partner it was.

“Where’d your books go?” Esperanza spoke up.

His blood froze as he looked over to see her pointing out the holes in his bookshelves, “Those are all my books.”

“Not all of them,” she poked a finger in a gap, where several of his novels usually sat.

“Yes, all of them,” he said a bit sternly, “That’s all of my books. I haven’t filled the rest of the book shelves yet.”

She turned to look up at him, “What about the-”

He had to cut her off before she blew his cover, “You know what? That’s enough. Just go back to the kitchen, now. Go sit down.”

The girl gave a small flinch, like she had been bopped on the nose. The surprise seemed to hit her hard too, as her eyes began filling with tears. She looked ready to bawl.

He took a deep breath, hoping to sound like a voice of reason, “Pizza should be ready any minute now. Let’s all just go back to the kitchen.”

“Fuck you! I’ll go to bed without dinner!” the girl screamed at the top of her lungs and shot like a bullet from the room up the stairs to her bedroom.

Even more awkward was the silence that followed. The stillness that resided within Maurizio as he stood there stunned felt unnatural. Esperanza had never spoken like that to anybody before. He was not sure what to do.

“I’ll…go upstairs and talk to her,” Cristine hesitated before heading upstairs after her.

Maurizio stood there for a few more moments. He rubbed his eyes on the heels of his hands. He suddenly felt so tired and wanted to go to bed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the little boy, Cristoforo. He had all but forgotten about the kid. Always so quiet, he barely remembered the kid saying more than a few words.

“I don’t suppose you have anything to say about all of this?” he asked, using careful English so as not to overstrain the poor boy. He was likely not used to all of the English. He imagined Esperanza was one of his few English speaking friends.

The boy sniffed, “Pizza’s burning.”

With a leap of surprise, Maurizio bounded into the kitchen. He rushed to the oven, desperate to get the pizza out before it overcooked. If nothing else, there had to be something to eat at the end of this evening.

 

When all was said and done, Cristine could not bring Esperanza around. Maurizio assured her that things would be okay. He would talk to her himself after they left. Esperanza just needed to calm down. He packed some of the pizza for Cristine and her son, sending them off with a friendly farewell. He was glad when the house was finally empty of guests.

Finally able to relax, he headed upstairs. A lot of his mind wanted him to go to his bedroom and plop, but he knew he needed to handle to the issue with Esperanza. There would be no wriggle room given for her to get out of this conversation.

He took a breath as he opened her bedroom door, “Esper-”

“Go away!” she exclaimed. She turned over to throw a pillow at him, hitting the door.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that she was still a child. She was still a little kid after all. She did not know much better. She was just lashing out because she had not developed enough to understand how to handle her feelings. He needed to teach her that, but he would not do her any favors by showing his own anger and frustration to her.

He was careful and calm as he spoke, “Listen, Esperanza. Your little display downstairs, that scene that you made, was absurdly uncalled for. You interrupted the visit with the guests, and I had to send them home. I gave them some of the pizza, but they took it with them. There is still some pizza down there if y-”

“I don’t want any!” Esperanza shrieked.

He took another deep breath, “If you’re going without supper, then I’m going down to clean up.”

“I hate you!” she raised her voice to a squealing level.

“Excuse me?” he asked, shocked at her words and the pitch at which she spoke.

“I hate you! I hate you! You’re terrible! You’re awful! You’re a liar! You’re a fake and I hate you!” she screamed with directionless rage. Her face was beet red with her words.

“I don’t think you mean what you are saying,” he replied.

“I mean everything I say!” she screamed at him.

“No you don’t, you’re only-” he had to pause and think about that. It took him too long to think.

“You’re always like this! You’re always doing this! You won’t just let me help you!” the girl shouted angrily.

“Help me? Help me with what?!” he exclaimed, “What is it that you think you’re helping with? You’re making everything more difficult!”

“You’re all alone! You keep lying! You don’t even have a girlfriend!” the girl exclaimed with frustration.

He was silent for several moments. He was too stunned to speak at first. How does one process the fact that a child thought they needed to intervene in an adult’s personal life?

He took a deep breath, “Esperanza, I don’t need a girlfriend. I don’t need you to intervene in personal affairs.”

“It’s not personal! It’s our affair!” the girl blurted angrily, “And why do you keep lying! I know your name isn’t Rodney! That’s a stupid name! Why won’t you tell Cristine you know Italian and French?”

“That is personal, Esperanza,” he shook a finger at her, trying to gain some form of high ground.

“It is _not_!” she spat.

“Yes it is!” he protested.

“No it’s not! It’s _our_ family!” she shouted at him.

“That’s not a family matter! We’re not- you aren’t-” he was fumbling now, realizing that he had been baited into yelling and childish means of arguing.

“Esperanza, you don’t know the half of what’s going on,” he told her sternly, “And you are only making things worse by dragging Cristine into our business.”

“No!” she puffed up her chest, practically sizing him up, “You’re terrible! You’ve made everything terrible! You’re some sicko who keeps me here all alone! I hate you! I hate you!” She started pushing him, which worked due to his surprise. She then slammed the door.

Shaking himself out of his stunned stupor, he grabbed the door handle. He found it to be locked when he jiggled it. “Esperanza! Open up!” he called through the door.

“No!” she protested.

“Let’s talk,” he spoke more calmly now.

“No!” was all she could reply.

“I need…” he sighed, rolling his eyes.

He was apparently not cut out for parenthood. At every turn he was just failing this kid. No doubt his own uncle would be rolling in his grave upon seeing his nephew fail at such a task as taking care of a child.

“I need you to understand,” he calmed his voice to a gentler tone.

“No! You need to understand!” she shouted, banging something against the door.

“Esperanza, calm down,” he requested.

“No! You’re a monster!” she shouted, “I hate you!”

“You don’t mean that,” he jiggled the handle again, “Come on, Esperanza. Let me in. Open up.”

“No! Go away!” she shouted.

“I’m not leaving until I get to talk to you,” he argued.

“You talked, you’re stupid! Go away!” she shouted again.

He sighed and slumped against the door. Such a frustrating situation. If only her mother was there to take care of her. Melisa would have known what to do with her or for her. Maurizio was at a loss as to how to even calm this brat down. Even after several years of taking care of her, plus the decades spent manipulating people, he could not work around this child’s anger.

He laid his head back against the door. Staring at the crevice, where the wall met the ceiling, he moaned. It all made no sense in the long run. If he let her be, she would stew and behave even worse the next day. If he kept at this, she would just continue being stubborn.

“I said go away!” she screamed, giving the door a kick.

“I’m not leaving,” he said calmly.

“Go away!” she screamed even louder.

He slid down with his back pressed against the door. When his backside landed on the ground, he looked up at the ceiling. He tried to imagine looking up at heaven, searching for Melisa. He tried to imagine her looking down at him now. Somehow, he could only imagine a look of disgust and disapproval at his treatment of her daughter.

“I’m locking myself in!” Esperanza called through the door.

“Okay, you did that,” he responded, with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m never coming out!” she added.

“Okay,” was all he could manage to say.

There was a long silence thereafter. At some point, he figured he heard the light and the creak of her bed. She had gone to sleep. She would continue brewing like this until morning. Still, he could not bring himself to get up and go to bed himself. He was trapped there, feeling sorry for himself in his predicament, and kicking himself for feeling sorry for himself when the mother was gone.

A soft little tapping caught his attention. He turned his head, pressing his ear against the wood of the door. He was quiet, listening intently for what might come next.

“Maurice?” the girl’s quiet voice came through the door.

He spoke without pause, “Yes?”

“I don’t want to live with you anymore,” she said softly.

He was mentally reeling, taken aback by her statement. She expected to stop living with him. But where would she live? Who did she expect to take care of her? There was nobody else around for her to turn to that he knew of. That was, unless Cristine had made some kind of offer for her to live with her. Or perhaps Cristine made it sound like an offer to live with her.

Before he could voice his concerns, she went on, “I want my mom. I want to go live with my mom. I want to be with her. Can we call her in the morning?”

That broke him. He could not speak. He had to cover his mouth to keep in the volume of the sob that came forth. Tears sprang to his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He cried like he never knew he needed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me a while because of the fight scene.


	5. Uncle's Dancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maurizio tries to deal with the tumultuous emotions of this young girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story's name has been changed from Buon Ladrone to Uncle Maurizio. I felt the name was not fitting and was proving too vague. The new title fits the basic idea of what's going on for this entire plot.

He was there for a long time before the door lock clicked and the door itself opened. He closed his eyes, shutting out the moonlight that came in through her bedroom window. He was turned away from it, but he still did not want it anywhere in his eyes.

“Maurice, don’t cry,” her voice was so soft. She crouched and used her little hands to wipe the tears from his face. “I don’t hate you. I still love you. You’re still my Uncle Maurice.”

“I’m…I’m not your uncle,” he sniffled, pulling away from her gentle warm hands. He put a hand over his eyes, wishing he could just curl up in a ball.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I’m not related to you,” he finally admitted, hiding his eyes behind his hand, “We were never meant to live together. We were never meant to be family.”

“We’re…we’re family anyways,” she stammered.

“No,” he shook his head, “I’m not your family, but I’m all that you have right now.”

“We have Cristine!” she chirped.

“No!” he dropped his hand, looking at her, “Don’t you understand?”

Those puzzled eyes stared back at him. It finally sort of clicked in his mind. Why he never thought about it before was beyond even him. Given that she was still just a child, he had not explained anything that had happened to her. He probably never even told her what happened to her mother. He had mostly assumed that she remembered.

He took a deep breath, “You were five.”

“When I was five?” she asked, puzzled.

“Shh,” he put a finger to her lips, “We met when you were five. I was there to check in on you and your mother. Over in Toronto on the backroads was a ranch where the two of you lived.”

“I barely remember,” she said, looking a little excited.

“Then Gray Mann followed us,” he said, putting on his most solemn tone, “He had many…bad men with him. He was a bad man. He still is a bad man.”

“Who is he?” she asked.

“It’s…hard to explain,” he sighed, “Your father worked for him. I worked for him once too. We all did. Well, except for your mother. She was as innocent as you in all of this. Though you were more so given your age. Your mother…she didn’t make it out alive. I don’t know how much you remember, but…you and I escaped in a street race car. We peeled out and didn’t look back.”

She was stunned and quiet for a long time. She just stared at his face, like it was the most foreign thing she had ever witnessed. “Why?” she finally asked.

He was not sure what to answer, because he was not sure what she was asking about precisely. He came to the quickest conclusion and started speaking before he could think thoroughly. He was just too tired and too full of emotions to properly make his thoughts clear before speaking.

“Your godfather told me to take you away,” he told her, “He would have done it himself, had he not been shot in the leg.”

“You’re lying,” she did not miss a beat.

“No, it’s true,” he insisted.

“No, you’re lying!” she exclaimed, “You’re lying again!”

“I’m telling you the truth right now,” he insisted.

“No you’re not! You’re lying again!” suddenly the door slammed and the girl ran to her bed.

He sighed and closed his eyes. How could _he_ be raising a child? How could he do this all alone? There was no possibility of getting through this without further issue.

He was not a fatherly type, that was for certain. He always thought he could be an uncle, the same way his uncle had been for him, but this was too much. How had his uncle even managed to raise him?

He was a single man trying to work a job in his home country while pretending to be from another country. All the while he was trying to keep certain people from finding out that he existed.

He was never one to quit, but damn did he want to quit. Every inch of his body ached with the desire to give up so he could return to his previous life. Hell, he could even convince Mann Co to let him back into the company.

 

The following week was lived in silence. After a while, Esperanza finally started talking to Maurizio when he spoke to her. She did not speak a lot though, never explaining how her day was, beyond simple words like “good” or “okay.” She certainly did not open up about the ballet recital she had. He had not even known she was doing ballet.

When he arrived, there were almost no seats left. He cursed himself, he should have known he should have come earlier. It was per chance that Cristine saw him and beckoned him over to have a seat with her and Cristoforo.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, confused that she was in attendance when her son was clearly not in the recital.

“Esperanza asked me to come,” Cristine smiled, and I convinced Cristoforo to come too.

“Mama, we’re still getting ice cream after this, right?” Cristoforo asked in Italian.

She turned to her son and switched to Italian, “Of course, baby. We’ll get ice cream once it is over.”

“Of course,” Maurizio sighed and slumped into his seat.

“Hmm? Is something wrong?” she turned to look at him, curiously.

“Of course, she told you about the recital,” he grumbled.

“I’m sorry, it’s hard to hear you when you mumble,” she frowned, “Did you say that she told you?”

“No, she didn’t tell me,” he spoke a little clearer, “Of course, she’d be a brat and tell _you_ but not me.”

“What? Why wouldn’t she tell you? She’d know you would want to be here for her,” Cristine furrowed her brow, “I’m sure she thought she had told you.”

“No, she’s done it on purpose,” he shrugged.

The two of them fell silent in their disagreement. Maurizio did not really want to argue about it anyways. Cristine seemed to be adamantly against the possibility that Esperanza could have tried to keep him out of the loop.

“You here for a kid too?” a gravelly Italian voice carried over from a man seated beside him.

Maurizio shifted uncertainly. He had taken the inside seat to let Cristine and Crisotoforo have easy access to leave, just in case. He was not fond of rubbing elbows with somebody while he was so frustrated.

The man chuckled, “My granddaughter is in the show. You and your wife have a uh…daughter in the show?”

Maurizio’s face flushed red as he turned to the man. He could not answer in Italian since Cristine, as well as a few other parents of kids who knew him, was nearby. He could not drop his act as an immigrant.

“Um…uh…sorry…I understand very little Italian,” he explained, making his Italian as broken as possible.

“Oh, you are American?” the man easily switched to English.

“Y-yes,” Maurizio said, keeping up the careful act of nervousness.

“I’m sorry, I said that my granddaughter is going to be in the show,” the man gave him a smile with even white teeth. Given a better look at him, Maurizio started to notice the little details that gave away wealthy status.

“O-oh,” he stammered, keeping up the nervousness.

The man leaned forward a bit to look at Cristine, “Are you and your wife here to watch your daughter?”

“No no!” he held his hands up defensively, glad that he could shoot down the man’s assumption, “No, she is not my wife. No wife.”

“Girlfriend?” the man inquired curiously.

“No,” he blushed, “We’re not together in any manner.”

“Oh,” the man looked at Cristine again. She looked back at him and waved. The man got a mischievous grin and leaned close to Maurizio, “She’s really cute. You should make your move before it’s too late and she looks elsewhere.”

An old instinct kicked in to say something caddy, but he pushed it down. He cleared his throat and shook his head, “Trust me. We’re just within sitting proximity. I’m just here for my neice.”

“Alright,” the man chuckled, then offered his hand in greeting, “My name is Salas Tizzone.”

Maurizio’s face dropped. His name was Maurizio Tizzone. The coincidence was uncanny. Of course there could and would be other families with the name. Why would the name die out? Still, it felt uncanny that the man had his family name.

“I’m Rodney,” he shook the hand offered to him, working off of automated habit, “Just Rodney is fine.”

The man chuckled, “Rodney, I like your style.”

With that, the two of them turned to the stage. Neither of them spoke after that. They just settled back and waited for the recital to begin.

Maurizio watched closely, trying to pick up on where Esperanza was. With her hair done up in a bun and the same costume as every other girl on stage, she was hard to pick out from the rest. Still, he managed to spot her and tried to get her attention. At some point he decided to give up on being polite and be a little obnoxious in getting her attention.

At one point, she makes a pointedly made face in his direction. Good, she saw him. That was all he wanted. He just needed that acknowledgement. He mostly settled back to enjoy the rest of the show.

 

When the show ended, the crowd clapped for the girls as they came back on stage for their bows. Maurizio had already prepared and pulled out a small bouquet he had bought for Esperanza. Just because the girl was being a brat lately didn’t mean he couldn’t make good memories with her.

When the girls came down from the stage, Esperanza begrudgingly came to meet Cristine. It was not that she was unhappy with Cristine or Cristoforo. Quite the contrary. She actually was quite happy to see the woman and her son there to cheer her on. They had had no other reason to be there.

Maurizio cleared his throat, mostly to get Cristine’s attention to move out of his way. He stepped towards her with the bouquet of flowers to hand to her. She seemed rather shocked at the appearance of flowers. She was forced to take them, but there was a sense that she was begrudging it.

“You did great, sweetheart,” he put on his best smile.

All around him, he could feel eyes and faces, sparing him temporary glances from time to time. Some of them were actually staring. All they could see was a proud uncle smiling at his talented niece. None of them knew what was going on between them, and the quarrel that had started a very long period of silence between them.

“Oh,” was her automated response, as she looked at the flowers, “You shouldn’t have.”

“But of course, I had to!” he protested, “It’s only right to bring flowers to congratulate a dancer!”

“Let’s get a picture!” Cristine insisted, holding up a small device.

He stiffened, realizing that they would then have a permanent picture of his face in some manner. She would probably give a copy to him, but in the end, it would probably end up staying with her too. That was a terrifying thought, as a hundred different worries about different scenarios that could occur flooded his mind.

“Say cheese!” Cristine said with a smile.

“Ch-cheese!” he called out with Esperanza.

At the last moment, his hand jerked up. Much to his relief, Cristine made a sad noise, meaning that he had succeeded in covering his face with the flowers. Mission accomplished! he thought.

“Let’s try another!” Cristine insisted.

Another? He chewed on his lip as he fretted. He was not sure if he would get away with the same trick twice. If she could do it again, then she would probably try a third time. Third time was the time that people figured out what was going on (usually.) Third time was always the charm for people.

He stiffened in his place, just before he saw Esperanza sigh in exasperation and walk away. The confused Cristine watched the girl, while Maurizio quickly trailed behind. He said nothing, not wanting to repeat the picture incident. He just followed her in silence out of the building into the cold air of the night.

Esperanza did not seem to realize that he was following though. She was quiet, and stepped right up to the edge of the sidewalk. She looked up at the stars, head tilted back to take them in.

He quietly stepped up beside him. Curiosity itched at him to ask her what she was thinking. What was she wondering about? Why was she standing here? What did the stars remind her of? He held his tongue, knowing that sometimes people reveled in the stars in silence and did not want that silence broken.

That silent broke with a sudden sob. His head turned to really look at her as her body jerked. She suddenly sat down, no longer concerned with what happened to her pink attire. She just sat down, pulled her knees to her chest and pressed her nose into her legs.

In the light of the stars, he could already see the tears flowing. It broke his heart to see her like this. Even if she had been a brat. Even if everything he worked for was for her, she still had feelings.

He took a knee next to her, “What’s wrong?”

She sniffled loudly, “I want a mom!”

He reeled for a moment, but quickly recovered. It was not hard to distinguish where this was coming from. This was the same as before. She just wanted that familiarity she had had when she was five years old. She wanted that mom she remembered.

He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to peaceably comfort her. He was not really sure what he could say to make her feel better. It was hard to see her cry, and it made him want to cry. Not here though, not where everybody could see a grown man weeping.

“Why is she gone?” the girl croaked.

“I…things…happen…sweetheart…” he began rubbing circles on her back while she cried, “Sometimes…sometimes bad people do things that affect your life. Sometimes, they make your life hell. It’s…kind of hard to make everything work out. In the end, I think…I think it’s up to you to make it better for yourself.”

“Then why won’t you date Cristine?” the girl raised her head to look at him with an accusatory glare.

“What?” he flinched back.

He heard a gentle echo of this word nearby. He turned his head to see Cristine standing nearby. The bored little Cristoforo was off playing with something on the ground, minding his own business.

He shot Cristine a “do you mind?” kind of look. She seemed to get the message and simpered off to find out what her son was up to. The last thing he needed was her to intervene yet again.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” he spoke gently as he turned back to the girl.

“I mean you and Cristine!” she exclaimed with exasperation, “You two are cute together! You two would be perfect together! You talk and laugh together enough! You get along enough! And…” She suddenly lowered her voice and shifted to her knees to face him. She cupped a hand over her mouth as she whispered into his ear. “You are both Italian and have kids to take care of.”

He gently pushed her away by her shoulder, “Things like that don’t make people be together. People fall in love, that’s how…that’s how _I_ do things. I’m not going to date Cristine just because…because of _that_.”

“Well why not?” the girl pleaded.

“Why do you want that so badly?” he asked, scrunching his brow.

“Cristine could be my mom,” the girl had a gleam in her eyes, as she pleaded with him.

He took her little hands in his. They were such soft little hands. His heart skipped a beat as he remembered how she had been at five years old. He remembered holding her hand for the first time, when she trusted him to take care of her and protect her. He remembered how she would always walk along with him if he was holding her hand. Those were sweet and innocent little hands, and they still were for him.

“As you grow up, you’ll have a lot of women…role models,” he told her, squeezing her hands, “Not just moms. There’ll be women like aunts. There’ll be women like friends. You might meet a woman who is like a mom.”

“I don’t want role models!” the girl pleaded.

“I can’t give you a mom, sweetheart,” he spoke softly.

“Why not!” big fresh tears pooled in her eyes and dumped off onto her round little cheeks. Her face was flush from crying, leaving her eyelids red.

He brought the hands to his lips, gently kissing them. In part it bought him some time, while a thumb stroked the backs of her fingers. Her gaze was still on him, but he could not meet it yet.

He heard footsteps before he heard Cristine speak, “Esperanza…”

He immediately turned to glare up at her. She was taken aback by the look, unused to his anger turning to her, “Do you mind? Please stay out of this.”

She raised her hands defensively, “I’m trying to help.”

“You’ve done enough!” he barked at her.

“I’m trying to help you!” Cristine pleaded, “I can help with understanding the-”

He raised a hand and switched to Italian, without a care for what consequences may come, “Those who want to keep a pretty face, should keep their noses away from knives!”

With that, he turned back to Esperanza, softening his expression and voice. He needed to connect with Esperanza somehow. To his despair, he found she was just crying more. New tears were in her eyes, with several lines streaming down her face with droplets. He gently wiped away the moisture with his thumbs as he cupped her face.

“Let’s go get ice cream,” he suggested in a soft voice.

“Okay,” she replied with a sniffle.

“Come on,” he helped her to her feet and took her hand. He paused to take the flowers, offering them to her.

Without a word, she hugged the bouquet to her chest with her free arm. Her other hand held onto his loosely. They did not say much as they headed up the street, aiming for the ice cream parlor that was always open late, halfway down the lane and past the large intersection.


	6. Called to a Troubled Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esperanza has been hiding things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a long while. I put the chapter writing on pause for some more brain storming.

After a night of cartoons and ice cream on the couch, Maurizio felt like he had had a sleepless night. He rubbed his tired eyes as he tried to focus on the engine he was looking at. The spark plug was full of more than just the usual residue. It might as well be replaced.

He found himself wanting to doze off, each excruciating moment feeling like an ounce of misery. He was wavering on his feet, wishing they would stop feeling like rubber. All the while, he forced his eyes to remain open, wishing that they would stop feeling so heavy.

“Rodney!” a voice caught his attention.

He was so surprised that his head jerked up and he hit the back of his head against the hood. He was rubbing the back of his head when he backed away from his work to look for who was calling him. He winced, half of him wanting to groan and call it quits for the day.

“Yea?” he called, setting aside the socket wrench.

He did not need a day off. They were not hurting yet, but all it would take is one emergency bill to take everything away from them. They were doing fine with what they had, but things were getting harder. Esperanza wanted to do dance, and he could not continue letting Cristine step in and secretly give her the dancing clothes she had gotten. He feared that on any given day he would get a call about Esperanza going to the hospital, and that was a mere medical bill away from putting them out of house for at least a month or more.

It was easy enough for others to rely on others. This was not a normal situation though. Esperanza did not understand that, and especially Cristine could not understand that. With the status of Rodney being an immigrant, they were low on options for work and housing. Add on that he was a Spy trying to keep his and Esperanza’s existence a secret, and you got a whole mess of a problem.

“Rodney, in the office!” the boss called.

“I’m coming,” he called, rubbing his head, “I’m coming.”

He lumbered into the office, feeling a bit downtrodden after the frustrating train of thought. He could not change to being Maurizio, everybody’s pal, because he was Rodney now. He could not speak to everybody in Italian, because he was supposed to be an American immigrant with little understanding of Italian and Italian culture.

Maybe he should have gone to Paris with this kid. They could have spent more time in a different location, where he would not be so tempted to use his native tongue all the time.

He felt like he was toddling along as he made his way to the manager’s office. He was so tired. It felt like it was him who had cried his heart out the night before. It felt like he had been the one on that stage dancing around until he was exhausted.

Esperanza had not lasted very long the night before. She had danced her heart out, just for the sake of dancing. Then with the breaking down? She had cried her heart out, wishing for a mother in her life. By the time they got ice cream, she was falling asleep. The poor girl barely watched an episode of her cartoon before falling asleep. Of course, he stayed up a bit longer, as she woke up and came in and out of her dozing.

He lifted his head as he entered the office. His eyes were so tired that they did not _want_ to rise above the floor. Still, he forced himself to look at his boss and put a smile on his face. He would be courteous enough not to piss the big man off.

“You called, sir?” he asked, tiredly.

His voice was practically a croak. It was weak and tired, as if he had recently cried. He did not remember waking up with a frog in his throat. He should work on that a bit, since he did not want people thinking something bad of him.

“Rodney, you catch a cold?” the manager asked.

“Ah…um…” he paused to think up a quick lie, “Just a rough night’s sleep is all, boss. Not to worry.” He gave a toothy grin to help sate the man’s curiosity.

“I’ve got a call for you,” the manager picked up his phone and reached over to hand it to him.

He frowned as he slowly accepted the receiver. Who would be calling him here? Why would anybody call him here, even if they knew he was here? There was only one person that he knew for sure knew he worked here, which was Cristine. He was not even sure that she knew exactly which of the garages he worked at.

The only other possibility was that somebody had dug up the information. Somebody had been digging around to find him. Somebody was looking for a little girl related to one of the mercenaries previously contracted by Mann Co, along with the Spy who had stolen her.

The terror started to well up. He felt like it was filling his eyeballs as his brows raised and his eyes widened. He felt his hands want to tremble, while his heart pounded against its cage. The rush of the chase filled him with a type of sensation that woke him up. It was a familiar sensation that made his hands be still, and forced his voice to be steady. In spite of his exhaustion too, he felt the most awake and capable of making himself seem smooth and suave to those around him.

The only possibility was a Spy. He knew it was, before he raised the receiver. It could possibly be some Spy he did not know. Likely some Spy hired by Mann Co to track him down. If they were calling him here though, there was only one person who would taunt him this way, or perhaps even warn him of the chase, which was Bleu.

This terrifying thought filled his mind as he brought the receiver to his ear. He was thinking of what he should do. He could not put on a fake accent in front of his boss, as that would make the man witness to something strange going on. And he could not play stupid to Bleu. Bleu would know for sure that it was him.

He was silent for a few moments, listening to the other end. It was so quiet and terrifying. He could not bring himself to say anything though. It was simply too terrifying to think of the ramifications of what would come of it.

His mind was about to go to Esperanza. This would mean uprooting her and going on the run. Did Bleu know where she was? For all he knew he was already at the school, sitting there to taunt him with some sort of standoff before trying to run off with the child.

“Hello? Is this Rodney Almick?” a woman on the other end asked.

Relief hit him like a wall. He even let out a breath, feeling the exhaustion settle back on his shoulders as he heard her voice. Bleu was no good at faking women’s voices, to the best of Maurizio’s knowledge. He was especially terrible at faking an Italian accent, especially one trying to speak carefully in English.

“Yes, this is,” he replied, with a bit more determination. Dear God he was glad that this was just a woman calling him, and not some Spy.

Then of course, that thought made him terrified. What if this was actually a Spy? He had not taken much consideration to the few women who worked for Mann Co. They were few and far between for many reasons, but he had seen a few female Spies in passing. There was a chance that this was a female Spy who was using a more social manipulative tactic of finding him and Esperanza. Maybe she was going to figure out where Esperanza was from him by tricking him. This way she could slip away with the girl while he was none the wiser.

“This is Giovanna Mele, I’m a counselor at Esperanza’s school,” the woman spoke slowly, “I’m here with Esperanza, and we need your assistance.”

“Uh…” he looked at his boss, shifting from foot to foot, “I’m currently at work and do not have time to come to school until I come to pick her up.”

“We _really_ need you here now, Mr. Almick,” she replied, “I think Esperanza may need to go home right now.”

“I do not have time to handle this,” he insisted, “She needs to be in school right now.”

“We really need you here sir,” the woman pleaded.

“I’m not available at this time,” he insisted. He glanced at the boss, whose brow was furrowed with concern. “I’m sorry, I cannot make it until after,” he insisted.

“Go,” the boss suddenly interrupted.

Maurizio blinked at him, “Pardon?”

“Sir, please,” the woman on the line pleaded. She diverged into Italian, seeming to have lost her patience. “Please, we can’t handle her. Please. Sweetheart,” she moved the receiver from her face, but he could still hear her as she tried to talk to a disgruntled sounding girl, “I’m trying to talk on the phone. Please calm down.”

“You should go take care of this family matter,” the boss explained, “We’ll discuss how you’ll make up today’s work tomorrow.”

Maurizio stood there for a moment of silence, stunned, “Wh-what?”

“You heard me,” the man gestured dismissively, “Now get out of here before I change my mine. Go!”

“R-right,” he hesitated with uncertainty. This seemed very unprecedented. Still, he had a child to go take care of, so he took his leave as demanded of him.

He rushed from the garage, grabbing his bag on the way out. He rushed through the streets as fast as he could. Maybe if he got there, he could straighten things out and be back within an hour. He could skip the lunch break and take an extra half hour after work to make up for the lost time.

The subtle feeling of relief settled in as he rushed to the front of the small school. His mind was racing with thoughts about how he would make up the time he was missing at work. He felt great about it, having every moment of his work planned out in how he would impress his boss into not minding this little occurrence. He just had to make sure that it never happened again.

 

Much to his dismay, all of his thoughts came crashing down on him as he entered the school’s offices to find Esperanza sitting there with a black eye. The girl had her arms crossed over her chest, looking pissed off. He did not see any other kids, so he could only assume that their parents had already picked them off or they had previously been dismissed.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded, “What happened?”

“Please take a seat,” the woman at the seat behind the desk said, gesturing to a chair beside Esperanza.

He took the seat, eyeing the child sideways. Esperanza had red eyes and tear streaks on her cheeks. About what she could possibly be crying about, he had no idea.

“Mister…um…we are struggling with Esperanza,” the woman said, her hands twitching in a very nervous manner. She was trying to plaster a fake smile on her face, but the rest of her body language gave away just how agitated she was.

“What has been going on?” he asked, rubbing his hands together thoughtfully.

“She has started…being more volatile,” the woman spoke slowly, “She has been refusing in Italian and French classes. Do you use any language at home, other than English?”

“A…a little French,” he said, thinking back on the time he spent helping Esperanza study.

“Now she is throwing pencils and notebooks at students during math class,” the woman said with exasperation.

He looked at Esperanza again. Her eyelids were puffy and red from crying. One eye was turning purple and black from impact. From the way she was breathing, she wanted to sniffle, but by her determinedly angry expression he figured she was trying to make it less obvious that she had cried at all.

“We are at our wits’ end with her,” the woman explained, “And if her behavior does not improve, she is going to be removed from extracurricular activities.”

He looked at Esperanza again. She was still determinedly firm in her anger, but there was a small look of fear. She was terrified at the prospect of her extracurricular activities being taken away from her.

“We don’t want to have to resort to that,” the woman insisted in a soft but firm tone.

Maurizio sighed. What could he do? He could not argue with them. There was not going to be any reasoning with the girl in her current emotional state either. It would probably be best to take her home and let her sit in her room and think for a while. Perhaps some time contemplating life without the things she wants to do would help her decide to behave on her own.

“I’ll take her home for today,” he rose from his seat, “I’m sure you have a lot to do. We have a lot to discuss.”

“We’re not done here though,” the woman insisted.

“Please,” he held up a hand, “Let me take care of this. She’ll be better behaved when she comes into school again.”

When he turned Esperanza, she was cringing, sinking low in her chair. She kept her eyes focused away from both adults in the room. She seemed to be too afraid to look at them, as if they might punish her for looking. Or maybe she thought that looking at them would be to give in. She was too angry for that.

“Come on, Esperanza,” he insisted, calling her attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get more difficult for Maurizio. I hope you enjoy where this story is going.


	7. Troubled Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maurizio and Esperanza run into Cristine and a misguided child mixes up the truth.

They walked in silence as they made their way from school to home. Esperanza was definitely determined to keep silent about whatever was going on. They walked along, side by side, as if nothing had happened.

How long ago had it been since they were walking the same way laughing together? Maybe in a few days they would laugh together again. But what if things did not come to that? They could not just ignore whatever this problem was.

“So, you’ve been misbehaving in your language classes?” he asked, “Why?”

“No point,” she folded her arms over her chest as she walked along.

“What do you mean, no point?” he inquired, ready to scoff.

“What’s the point in trying, if I’m too stupid to understand the language? We _live_ in Italy! But I can’t get it,” she gestured wildly with her arms, “Let’s just go home.”

“We can’t just go home,” he insisted, “We have to talk about this.”

“Why should I?” Esperanza scoffed, “School is stupid anyways.”

“School is not stupid,” he insisted, “School is how you get an education to serve you in the future. School is how you make connections to get to the next level.”

“Well, I don’t want to!” she protested angrily.

“That’s…too bad!” he built up his nerve as he spoke, “Because you are legally required to! You will go back to school. You will get your education. You will do that and pay attention in Italian class!”

“Why do _I_ have to learn Italian!” she protested, “You know Italian, but you play stupid all the time!”

He glanced around hurriedly, biting his tongue in a panic. He grabbed her book bag and shushed her. He looked around again, unsure if there was anybody around who could have heard the girl going on in this way.

“Remember what we talked about?” he scorned softly.

“You’re always keeping secrets!” she hissed at him angrily.

“That’s because I have to!” he pleaded with her, “And that’s not related to school! What _is_ related to school is your behavior!”

“Whose fault is that, Maurice?” she snapped.

He reeled, confused and angry all at once, “It’s RODNEY!”

“More lies!” she shouted at him.

“I’m not lying!” he exclaimed.

He huffed and took a deep breath. He needed to calm down and think about this better. He needed to keep her from getting under his skin. She had a capacity to do that. He just had to be the bigger person in all of this. Most importantly, he needed to keep a level head.

“Look,” he drew her attention back to walking home, “I get that you are having a hard time. It’s not easy living in a foreign country. Don’t you think I’m having a hard time?”

“You’re not having a hard time! You _know_ Italian! But you tell Cristine that you don’t know anything!” she pointed at him with an accusatory finger.

“Now look here, young lady,” he turned to her, pointing a finger back at her.

“What’s going on?” a familiar voice cut them both off. They stopped in their tracks to look at Cristine, who was carrying a few bags of groceries. She looked from Esperanza to Maurizio. “What are you two arguing about?”

“Maurice is-” he did not let the girl get another word out as he clapped a hand over her mouth.

“It’s personal,” he told her, “I would die if you were to hear.”

She laughed and smiled, “Alright. I’ll leave you two to it then.”

Esperanza pushed his hand away angrily, “I’m not going! I’m not going! I’m not going home with you!” The girl was wheezing as tears broke from her eyes.

Maurizio felt so panicked, not sure what to do to reconcile this situation. He needed to get Esperanza home and quiet her down. At the same time, this was an informational leak that could result in problems. At best, Cristine would read this as some hissy fit that Esperanza was having. At worst, he could already see Cristine spreading this information to people who should not even know they were there.

“I’m not going! I’m not going! I’m not going!” Esperanza screamed shrilly.

“Alright, that’s it,” he picked Esperanza up and started off down the street.

“R-Rodney!” Cristine called after him.

“Not now!” he called back to her.

“Do you need help, Rodney?” she called to him. He could hear her footsteps, and his own quickened. “Rodney! What’s going on?”

“Help me!” Esperanza cried out, “Help me!”

“Rodney?” Cristine ran to catch up, concerned about what was going on.

“Not now, Cristine,” he replied, “I’ve got a hissy fit to deal with right now.”

“Let me help you!” Cristine insisted.

“No no,” he insisted, shifting the squirming girl in his arms, “This is a family issue.”

“Oh come on!” Cristine grabbed Esperanza’s bag, forcing Maurizio to stop, “You’re going to drop her. Let me get your things. You dropped your bag.”

He carefully set Esperanza down as Cristine peeled the backpack off of her. Esperanza hiccupped through tears as she let Cristine handle her. Maurizio looked to his bag, which Cristine had put on her arm. He regretted dropping it, having forgotten himself in a whirlwind of panic.

“I don’t want to go home,” Esperanza wiped her eyes as she hiccupped some more.

Maurizio sighed and rolled his eyes with frustration, “We have to go home.”

“I don’t want to,” Esperanza whimpered, her voice growing quieter.

Cristine studied the girl’s face for a while. She had concern written all over her visage, when she finally looked to Maurizio. She studied his face for a good long silence minute, before she stood up.

“We’re going to take you home, okay?” Cristine said, “Then we’ll figure things out.”

“Please let me handle this,” Maurizio grabbed the handle of Esperanza’s book bag.

“Please let me help,” Cristine shifted the bag onto her back so that he would have a harder time getting it away from her.

He sighed in reluctance as he followed her. She kept both bags, and Esperanza’s hand, as they started towards home. They were all fairly quiet, aside from Esperanza’s sniffling. The girl took a long time to recover from her crying, but as they walked, she grew more and more sullen in the dim noise of the streets.

Maurizio fished out his keys and unlocked the front door. He held it open for Cristine and Esperanza to enter. He watched as Cristine set the bags on the couch, then escorted the girl up the stairs. She was speaking softly to her, trying to comfort her, as they walked up to her room.

He waited down stairs, unsure of what to do with himself. At first, he started pacing the space between the den and the kitchen. How the hell was he supposed to handle this situation? What was he going to do about Cristine? What did _she_ think all of this was?

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up them. A bit of worry grew a pain in his chest as he imagined what Esperanza might be telling her. He just let them walk up there together, all alone. This was a perfect chance for Cristine to get information from Esperanza that the girl wanted to share, things that worried Maurizio.

As the door to the girl’s room started opening, he hurried away from the stairs. He stopped by the couch to pick up his bag. It did not have much in it, just his wallet, keys to an emergency car, and papers that falsified his identity. He always kept those papers on him, just in case of a run in with keepers of the law.

“I tucked Esperanza into bed,” Cristine’s voice followed her feet down the steps.

Maurizio busied himself with the other bag. The pink and yellow Barbie plastered book bag was heavy with books. Opening it revealed that there was more loose paper than books. He was not really sure what half of the papers were for either.

“Are you okay?” Cristine asked him.

“I’m fine,” he said, refusing to look at her, “I just need to handle some things. Thank you for helping with Esperanza. I need to take care of this though.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Cristine insisted.

“Please don’t,” he turned to her, leaving Esperanza’s bag alone, “I know you mean well, but this isn’t something for you to meddle in.”

“Rodney, that little girl up there is really heart broken,” she had this very heartfelt tone that made Maurizio want to just give in, “Whatever is going on with her…I know you’re upset…you’re both upset. That makes it hard to make things better. You need help.”

“I don’t need help,” he protested, stubbornly.

She scoffed with frustration, “Rodney, you need help. This is a little girl. I don’t mean to step on toes or anything, but you aren’t very good at handling this little girl.”

“This little girl was entrusted into my care!” he proclaimed, growing a bit angry with this woman, “Cristine, I get that Esperanza wants a female role model. That’s fine. You have to understand something though. I’m her guardian. I’m the one here trying to take care of her.”

“I can see that!” she exclaimed, “I can see you…tirelessly…just trying to make it. Just…you look so tired. She’s so tired. You’re both so tired you’re going to kill each other.”

“No offense, Cristine,” he really wanted to offend her though, “But you don’t have any understanding of the context of what is going on.”

He could see her visibly shaking as her face turned red, “I’m not a dunce! I know I’m not fluent in English, but I’m not completely ignorant to what’s going on!”

“This is not a language barrier,” he argued, “This is a barrier of information.”

“What is the barrier here?” she was so frustrated that she was gesturing wildly with her hands.

“I can’t let you be a part of this, Cristine,” he insisted, “You need to let it go. Leave well enough alone. I’ll handle Esperanza’s issues.”

“Oh ho!” she proclaimed, “So that’s it! You’re the barrier?” Her eyes narrowed in a glare, as she took a step towards him. “I don’t know what you think is okay, but if you’ve been raising a hand t-”

He did not let her get another word out, shouting at the top of his lungs, “No no no no no! I would never do that to Esperanza! I would never hurt her!”

“All of the signs point to you, Rodney,” she pointed at him with a shaking finger.

“No, they don’t,” he shook his head.

“ _Yes_ they do!” she barked, raising her voice.

“I can assure you that they don’t!” he raised his voice above hers.

“Stop fighting!” the high pitched voice caused both of them to turn with surprise to the stairs. Esperanza had a little bunny in her hand, dangling from her grip in a limp lifeless manner. Her other hand was rubbing her eye.

“Esperanza, sweetheart, please go back to your room,” Maurizio said, in as calm a tone as he could command at this moment.

“Sweetie, me and your uncle are just having a discussion,” Cristine assured her.

“No you’re not! You’re fighting!” the girl declared.

“She’s not a stupid child,” Maurizio looked to Cristine, “She’s going to know a fight when she sees one.”

“Oh grow up!” Cristine threw her hands up, gesturing angrily at Maurizio. In her anger, she suddenly switched to Italian. He figured that he was not meant to understand any of it, since he was not supposed to understand Italian. “You are so childish! I don’t understand you! It is like you don’t even get what a moron you are! You turn around one minute and act all sleek and sly, like the man of any woman’s dreams, and then the next you’re a total nightmare dealing with this kid! It’s like you switch personalities when you have to be a responsible adult! I wish you would stop switching…I wish you would just be the man I know you can be. I wish you would see…how I feel.”

Maurizio sighed with frustration, “Cristine, this isn’t a situation about speaking Italian verses speaking English.”

“That’s what _I_ thought it was about,” Esperanza interjected.

“No sass from you!” he pointed up at Esperanza, “We’ll talk about your schooling later.”

“What? What about her schooling?” Cristine’s head swiveled between Maurizio and Esperanza.

“She has been throwing fits and refusing to participate in the lessons for Italian and French,” he informed her.

“Oh honey,” Cristine turned towards the girl, “Why didn’t you tell me? I could help you.”

“Maurice helps me,” the girl insisted.

“ _Rodney_ ,” Maurizio corrected.

“Rodney is doing his best, sweetie,” Cristine insisted.

“It’s not about _that_!” the girl growled in frustration.

“Then what is it about?” Cristine stepped towards the stairs, “Why don’t you tell me, so that we can sort this out.”

“You’re on his side!” the girl exclaimed in a loud and angry voice.

“Esperanza, inside voice,” Maurizio told her firmly.

“You’re on his side, and you don’t even know- you don’t even know that he killed my mom!” she turned and rushed into her room, slamming the door shut.

Maurizio had to blink to clear his mind. Killed her mother? Where had she gotten this idea? It was so absurd that he did not even know what to make of it.

“Esperanza, you need to stop!” Cristine insisted, “Go back to your room, right now! When I come up there, you had better be in your bed!”

The girl hesitated, bleary eyes looking from one adult to the other. Her lip quivered and she let out a whimper. Without a word though, she turned and ran back into her room.

Maurizio let out a breath. He was relieved that the girl was finally in her room, but that left Cristine in her house. He sighed as he turned to her, readying himself mentally to deal with her.

She turned to him, half enraged and half stern. She had her eyebrows pulled together and down, as she glared at him. The deathly glare was trying to pierce him.

“I don’t know what you have been doing to that girl, but this ends here!” she announced.

“Whoa! Whoa!” he threw his hands up, “Esperanza is being dramatic! I have not done any such thing.”

“I don’t know what you did,” Cristine spoke with warning in her tone, “But you need to start telling truths!”

“You’re believing _her_ over _me_?!” he asked, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

“I don’t know what to believe,” she folded her arms under her breasts, putting on some sort of scorning tone that he was supposed to be intimidated by, “You two have gone from being inseparable to being intolerable to each other in the past few weeks. You don’t think I have noticed?”

“I mean, yes! Of course, people would notice!” he sighed, feeling more frustrated than ever that people could not mind their own business, “This is not a matter of us not tolerating each other. This is about Esperanza being a little-”

“ _Not_ another word, Rodney,” she interrupted, quickly raising a hand to silence him.

“What? What do you want me to do? I can’t speak unless it’s something incriminating? Something you want to hear?” he demanded.

“I want you to stop blaming _her_ for all of this! You’re _both_ the problem!” Cristine told him angrily.

“Oh, I’m a problem now? I’m supposed to be at work, Cristine! Know what I’m doing now? I’m here dealing with a girl who’s throwing tantrums in Italian and French classes!” he spat.

“You’re only here throwing a temper tantrum! You’re not _dealing_ with anything! What kind of uncle actually makes his niece cry?” Cristine declared.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the position of willed guardian who takes up the mantle of care of a child that’s not his came with being a damn robot!” he raised his voice, unable to control the shaking need to explode.

“Do you even listen to yourself?” her voice was lower, but the pitch made him angry.

“Me? Why don’t _you_ listen to yourself! I have been doing my best to keep the two of us afloat! Now you want to come in here and tell me how to raise my niece?” he threw his arms in the air in exasperation.

She mimicked his gestured, “I don’t know what it is you think you’re doing, but it’s _not_ raising your niece!”

“What is it then, hmm? Oh great and wise mother. You sure do know what you’re doing with a brat who barely talks!” he roared.

Her eyes burned with hellfire. They stared into his eyes, searing through his corneas into his soul. He could already tell that he had crossed a line, but he was not going to apologize for it. He was not even going to back down.

“Don’t you _dare_ bring Cristoforo into this!” she hissed with mirth seeping from her tongue.

“Oh? You can drag my situation with Esperanza, but you and your son are untouchable now? Drag the kid everywhere, but don’t prompt him to talk to anybody!” he declared.

“He’s shy and he doesn’t speak English well!” she declared.

He shook his head, unaffected by her defense, “He barely even speaks Italian to anybody.”

“He’s shy! He mostly speaks with his family!” she raised her voice.

“Have you thought that _maybe_ , just maybe he needs a little push? Just like Esperanza needs a push to not throw a fucking hissy fit during class that lands me at her school?!” he gestured wildly, trying to express just how mad he was.

“Oh yea, it’s _all_ about you, isn’t it?” she scoffed.

“Oh no,” he turned to her, hoping to make her regret those words, “We can make it about _you again_!”


	8. Scheme of Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esperanza decides to do something to catch Maurizio's attention.

The fighting lasted so long that Esperanza had to pee twice. She listened from her door, ready to slip back inside before anybody could notice that she was not in her bed. She did not want to sleep, not with all of the yelling.

She could feel the guilt of having thrown tantrums in school, but it washed away when she remembered them happening. Mrs. Esposito was condescending, and always tried to make a fool of her. Mr. Moretti thought highly of himself and never considered that he was moving too fast for certain members of his class.

As long as there were prime A grade students in their classes, she was the crud scraped from the bottom of the barrel. They would always compare her to kids who were fluent in Italian, and kids who could easily understand all of this. They even dared to criticize her for having no mother, as if that had had any bearings on her ability to learn.

It would not be long before Maurice found out about her grades slipping. Math was dumb anyways, and she did not need it to be able to do the things she wanted. Science was too complicated and they expected her to memorize too many things all in one lesson, before moving on to more things to remember in the next lesson. History was probably the only class she liked, because the teacher was fun and told history like a magnificent story; still, history was slipping by because she spent too much time listening to his stories and not enough time remembering names and writing notes about what he told them.

It was all for naught anyways. It was not like Maurice cared. He was helping her with Italian and French when he could, but he never actually spoke Italian around her. They were supposed to be foreign residents, but she had picked up his Italian capabilities when she was very young.

In fact, she remembered some time ago when they first arrived in Italy. They had landed in Rome, but they first went to a farm house. They were staying with some nice people who intended to rent out to travelers.

She had had no idea what any of them were saying, but they were such a sweet old couple. For a while, she had even thought he was going to leave her there. Maybe she would have been happier there. Maybe, just maybe, that bit of memory from her early childhood was telling her that they were her real family.

Maybe that was what he was hiding. Maybe that was why he was so weird about hiding who they were. He always told her stories about where she was from and what her country was supposed to be like, but she never remembered it. Nothing about America or Canada struck any kind of memory cord for her.

That old couple did though. They seemed really nice. They could have been her grandparents for all she knew. It was quite possible that her mother had died and she had been left to her grandparents, but then why was she with Maurice?

Was she really stolen? Why would he hide who they were? Why would he want nobody to know that they were Italian, and that he spoke Italian fluently.

She remembered the morning they left. She had been such a carefree child, munching on a muffin given to her by the old lady that morning. She remembered saying a simple goodbye to them. They had known she would be leaving, watching her get into the car with Maurice and drive away.

Why would they let her go like that? Why did they not stop him? Did they even want her? Or perhaps…

It hit her like a brick to the face. It felt like the time Elizabeth threw a rock at her and it hit her square between the eyes. It all made perfect sense when she stopped trying to think of herself and Maurice as being too different. In fact, they could be father and daughter.

She slipped into her room, closing the door to the yelling downstairs. She went to the tall mirror propped in the corner of her room. She looked at her soft mouse brown hair, wondering how she could have gotten hair of this texture when Maurice’s was so blond and curly. Sometimes it seemed like he could not have tamed his curls if he did not get it cut.

She looked at her weird nose, thinking on the shape of his nose. Maybe it was similar, but not quite the same. Then again, she was still small and had not yet grown into her full mature size. Her nose could change a little bit over time, as many adults had shown that their noses change a little bit from the shape in their childhood pictures.

Her face was different shape though. It was round at the cheeks, while Maurice’s cheeks were prominent and hollow. Maybe that was because of her mother. Yes, she had forgotten about the important part of the equation that had been left out, her mother.

She wondered what her mother looked like. She could be so different from anything Esperanza had ever seen. Maybe she was some gorgeous woman. Or perhaps she was a hideous hag. That thought gave her a shudder and she filed it away in favor of the beautiful woman.

She went to her bed and pulled her secret diary out from under her mattress. She opened it up and sat upon her bed to write her thoughts. She wanted to take note of this revelation, before it slipped her mind into tomorrow.

When she put the diary away, she carefully slipped out of her room to listen to what was going on. They were fighting about Cristoforo again. It was Maurice’s scapegoat, getting Cristine to not focus on the situation between him and Esperanza. It was kind of cunning, but Cristine always seemed to be one half step behind him, ready to change back over.

Esperanza got lost in her own thoughts again. Why did Maurice teach her so much English early in life if they were Italian? Why did she not have an easier time with it? And why were they pretending to be immigrants? They could easily blend in as real Italians, if only he would just start speaking it at home.

It was as if he heard her thoughts. Suddenly, he was yelling in Italian. She listened but did not understand more than a few words of it. She felt like she was spinning, as she reeled.

The words were still in anger, but the two people were now shouting in Italian. One was clearly angrier than the other, but the other was more diligent and had a nastier pitch. It was like hearing somebody else’s parents scream at each other. This was like nothing Esperanza had ever experienced before.

She got to her feet, trying to decide what to do. If she went to see them, they would just stop and try to send her to her room again. If she went to her room, nothing would change.

She would have to change everything herself. She went back to her room, trying to decide what she could use. She would have to make them see what they were doing, to make them change what they were doing, and not just send her to her room. She had to do something that would make them think. She had to do something that would force them to reevaluate themselves.

She began gathering up some things. She grabbed some clothes from the drawers and stuffed them into her little Miraculous Ladybug suitcase. She hurried about the room to find things she would definitely need. Her Brenda doll, her diary, some notebooks, pens and pencils, and finally the pack of Spongebob bandages she kept in her room.

She opened her door and peeked outside. They were still fighting. That was good for her, because she needed to sneak down the hallway to the bathroom. Before she was not so quiet about going to the bathroom, but this time she had to be stealthy.

She grabbed her toothbrush, the toothpaste, her floss, her special mouthwash, a towel, her shampoo, her conditioner, her red and white bath robe, and a hair brush. She slipped out of the bathroom with all of these things in her arms. She listened carefully as the door shut. She dared not let them find her with all of this stuff in her arms. Mostly they would ask her questions, and then she would have to either explain herself or lie. She did not want to do either of those things, not to their faces.

She tip toed to her room, listening to the loud and boisterous arguing. She slipped inside and began stuffing the suitcase again. Unfortunately, it did not all fit. She decided to do without a few sweaters, seeing as her jacket would be fine. She removed some notebooks since they would make the bag heavier. Then she set aside the gel pens, since she could do with just regular pens and pencils.

When she was finished, she zipped it up and carried it to her window. She opened it up and peered over the edge. The roof just outside of her window provided her with someplace to put the suitcase. She hoisted it over the edge and then climbed out herself.

She squeaked as the tiling slipped out from her initial step. She pressed her hands to the wall, freezing as she waited for the tiles to settle. The cold air brushed against her hair, reminding her of how cold it was outside.

Oh no, she thought. She looked at the window and saw her blue jacket laying on her bed. She had meant to put it on, but had been focused on her suitcase and getting it out the window.

She shifted carefully, with both hands pressed against the wall. She moved slowly, deliberately making one step slowly after another. She did not want to slide right off of the edge of the roof.

Of course, the moment she thought about that, a tile tried to slide out from under her foot. She gasped and grabbed onto the window sill. Terrified, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about falling.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she tried with all of her might to focus. She had to get to that jacket. It was so cold outside. The biting winds just kept reminding her, especially as they made her fingers freeze.

The painful sensation in her fingers made her not want to move. Instead, she shoved them into the pockets of her pants. She took a few breaths to try and slow her pounding heart.

Slowly this time, she took a hold of the window sill again. She carefully hoisted herself over the edge and clambered inside. A book shelf toppled and she tumbled across the floor. She winced at the noise and scrambled to her feet.

She thought he would probably come running up the stairs just to be sure she was okay. She hastened to the window, pulling it closed and locking it. That way, he would not know that she had climbed outside.

When she looked around the room, she found it was a mess. He would be suspicious if he found her room a mess like this. With gel pens and clothes on the floor?

She hurried to grab her things and stuff them into drawers. She even threw the gel pens into the drawer with the pants. She turned to the bookshelf and struggled to get it upright again. The weight of the books was just too much for her to do it alone, leaving her to struggle in vain.

The door opened, admitting the two adults. She released the shelf and looked to them with surprise. Cristine’s face was red like the color of blood, but Maurice’s face was pale like a sheet of paper.

“Honey? Are you okay up here?” the red was slowly leaving Cristine’s face.

“Oh, did that fall? Here, let me help you,” Maurice walked over to help her lift the bookcase.

“You should secure that with screws, you know,” Cristine said, though her voice was a little hesitant.

“I can’t,” he argued, as he got the shelving upright.

“It’s not safe to have stuff like that in here without security. She’s just a kid. It could have easily fallen on her and she would have been hurt,” Cristine argued.

“Stop chastising me,” Maurice growled, as he shifted the shelves into their proper place against the wall.

Esperanza appreciated that little gesture. She hated when things were not properly aligned. Maurice tended to be a little bit lazy when it came to aligning things. That was why the fridge was still crooked after he last cleaned underneath of it. However, he knew that she did not like things being crooked, and he would make sure the bookshelf was where she wanted it.

He stayed kneeled there, as he began shelving the books. Esperanza knelt beside him to help with the books. All the while, she worried that Cristine might be looking around too much. She might catch onto something that would give away her plans to run away. Either of them would try to hinder her.

“Okay!” Esperanza exclaimed loudly, “I can deal with this myself! I can put the books away! You’re done! Go on! Get out! Shoo!”

She practically chased Maurice out of her room, grouping Cristine with him. Once they were out, she quickly closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Now, she could finally move forward with her plan of escape.


	9. True Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maurizio fights with Cristine. her true colors are revealed.

Maurizio stood stock still in the hallway. The blood had long since left his face. He was left in a perpetual state of fear, from which he could never turn back. He might as well have written the script to his own undoing.

His mistake had been a simple slip up. In the heat of the argument, he had stopped paying attention to what he was saying or how he was saying it. He was just yelling.

Had he been paying attention, he could have passed off the initial slip up as an accident. He had been living in Italy for a few consecutive years after all. More than a few consecutive years at that. It would make sense for him to pick up a few things here and there.

What was worse was that she just rolled with it. Not a single moment in all of that had she even thought of calling him out on it. She did not seem surprised in the least. She just switched to Italian like this was a normal thing.

He shuddered, trying to get his thoughts under control. They had already caused him problems. In the heat of anger, they had thoroughly betrayed him and destroyed his American façade. If that did not spell failure for a Spy, he was not sure what did.

He moved from the hall down the stairs. It felt like his blood was not circulating properly. He needed a doctor or something.

“So,” Cristine interrupted his thoughts, “You’ve become impressive at speaking Italian in a loud angry voice.”

He swallowed the fear, “Yea? I’ve been watching a lot of Italian dramas lately.”

“Ah…yea,” she nodded slowly, rocking on the balls of her feet, “A lot of yelling in those, I guess.”

He took a breath, “Yes…so I have uh…been working on learning more Italian.”

“I see,” she nodded slowly.

“So um…we don’t have to…mention anything about that…again,” he went on.

“Okay,” she replied awkwardly.

He cleared his throat, “Um…I think I need to…get to…uh…” His mind was racing for something to divert her attention and move this conversation away.

“Cook dinner?” she offered.

“Yes!” he snapped his fingers, glad to have a topic to divert her attention, “I need to work on dinner. Now that everything is settled…I need to get dinner ready, and then see about Esperanza’s homework.”  
“Right,” she said, rubbing her arm, “That.”

“Well, it’s been an interesting visit,” he gestured for her as he made his way to the front door, “I’m sure you have a lot to do for your own. You probably have things to take care of back at home.”

“Oh…not really,” she replied, barely budging from her spot.

He went ahead and opened the door, hoping she would see the blatant hint. He did not care how rude it might seem at this point. He was ready to drag her out and remove her physically from the house.

“Look…Rodney,” she spoke more softly now, “I get that family stuff must be hard for you. You’re a single bachelor looking after a little girl.”

He cleared his throat and gestured to the door, “Door is open.”

“Rodney, you need to talk about this,” she insisted.

“Not right now. I don’t,” he was losing the newfound mask of cheeriness very quickly, “Right now, you need to go home, Cristine.”

“Why won’t you talk about this?” she demanded.

“Why won’t you mind your own business? Hmm?” he demanded.

“You are here, in a foreign country, doing who the hell knows what!” she proclaimed, “I’m offering you help! I’m offering you the best kind of help!”

“What is that?” he folded his arms over his chest.

“Girl help!” she insisted.

“She is not that old,” he insisted, “And I don’t think you’re the best person to advise on that anyways.”

“Why not?” she puffed up defensively.

He rolled his eyes. Oh sure, why not? He could already think of a few ways that disqualified her to be an advisor in this situation. Primarily, the girl was not Italian. Secondarily Cristine did not have any girls, just a boy.

“You don’t know her,” he told her flatly.

“What does that have to do with advising about girls?” Cristine huffed angrily.

“It doesn’t have to do with girls, it has to do with _this_ girl!” he exclaimed.

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job with her, are you?” Cristine gave him a narrow eyed glare.

“I’m doing a fine job with this kid!” he declared. It was his turn to puff up defensively.

“Oh really? Why is she doing all of this then? Why is she causing you such trouble if you’re doing such a _fine job_ with her?” Cristine demanded.

“Oh sure, you could do better! Because you’ve got enough experience with a child who doesn’t say a damn word!” he exclaimed in frustration.

“I do have a lot of experience!” she stiffened, “I grew up with five little sisters and am still raising the youngest sibling!”

“Because that qualifies,” he rolled his eyes.

Her face turned red, “It’s true! I’m raising my littlest sister myself!”

“I don’t care what you’re doing with family,” he gestured dismissively.

“You should care! If we’re friends, you should care a lot!” her voice grew shrill. It was so annoying. “If this is how you treat Esperanza, I can tell why she’s acting out!”

“She is not acting out,” he replied defensively, “Stop saying things you have not evidence for.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” she scoffed sarcastically, “I thought we were pulling statements out of our asses after that thing about _doing a fine job with this kid_. You know? You’re a real pain in the ass. I’ve been trying not to say anything. I’ve been trying to be nice and see through all of that. But you’re really just a piece of shit. I’m glad I didn’t ask you out.”

“Why the fu- Good! I’m glad you didn’t! It would have been more awkward kicking you out of my house!” he raised his voice above hers. Her voice was so shrill and noisy. It was disturbing.

It appeared that he hit a nerve with that though, “Good!”

“Fine!” he barked, trying to push the conversation towards getting her out.

“You know what? I’m done!” she threw her arms up in exasperation.

“Thank God for that!” he declared.

“You’re a selfish petty man!” she pointed to him.

“Oh yea, just lay on the insults,” he gestured for her to keep talking, while moving his body towards her. He managed to wordlessly usher her a step towards the door.

“You’re a grouchy, self-centered asshole!” she said, shaking her finger at him.

“Is that all? I think you can do worse,” he dismissed the insults without a bat of an eye.

“You’re so infuriating!” she stomped her foot. He managed to make her shift another step towards the door though.

“You’re even worse,” he replied, “You have no idea how annoying and terrible you are.”

“Me? I’m terrible?” her voice had to have reached its peak in height. Any higher and she would be singing high notes. “I’m the only Italian who would be friends with a creep like you!”

“Oh? I’m a creep?” he chuckled wryly.

“Yes you are!” she nodded, though she caved another step towards the door. She did not even realize she was inching closer and closer to it.

“You are such an oblivious bitch,” he shook his head, “Creeping in here. Playing nice. Knowing this guy has a kid to take care of. And you? You have a fucking husband!”

“I never married!” she screamed.

“Neither have I!” he raised his voice over hers.

“Good! I’m glad for every woman who missed out!” she stomped her foot and screamed louder.

“Oh yea! Good for them! I’m glad for whatever guy missed out on such a creepy bitch!” he raised his voice higher.

“Women can’t be creeps you idiot!” she shrieked.

“ _You’re_ a creep, you stupid bitch!” he barked at her.

“I’ll bet you lie to all the people back in America. I’ll bet you tell them you actually get some. When really, you’re just a sad pathetic virgin!” she growled.

He rolled his eyes, managing to gain another step. They were so close to the door. They were so close to his victory. He just had to distract her a little longer, then he would have her outside. Then he could close the door and be done with her. Granted she might start screaming and banging on the door, but he could pretend that was not there.

“You’re a sad lonely man,” her voice finally lowered. Tears were filling her eyes, refusing to overflow. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

“Yea? Double goes for you, missy. You don’t even know how to mind your own damn business,” he growled in response. He had no reason to raise his voice if she was not raising hers. “You’re a nosey little shit who doesn’t know manners or a sense of ‘get out of my house’ when somebody says it directly to your face!”

“You know what? I’m glad this is happening,” she laughed, putting up her hands, “I never want to speak to you again.”

“Fine!” he barked.

“Good,” she replied coolly.

“Then get out of my-” his words were cut off as she grabbed the front of his shirt. He was bewildered at the action and immediately reeled. He was too late to pull out of her grip, as she pulled him forward.

He fell, his body leaning as her face pressed against his. He felt her lips compress with his. They did not open, but soft rose petals pressed against him with eager want. The youthful and blissful thought that was this kiss made him think for the moment of its existence.

She really had been wanting him. She really had been flirting with him. He had been bluffing, but she really had been creeping on him. What she wanted though, she could not have.

He was not thinking about what his body was doing. His hand seemed to have a mind of its own as it balled up. He watched her fall back, face thrusted sideways by a strike to the cheek. She let out a gasping cry as she fell, barely catching herself with one arm.

He looked at his fist in disbelief. One part of his brain was analyzing the social repercussions of this. The other was simply satisfied with another face to punch. He had punched enough men who had forced themselves at him before. That part of his brain did not realize the difference here, between men in a war and a woman in normal society.

“You monster!” she gasped. She hiccupped as she struggled to her feet.

“Yea good riddance!” he barked at her.

“You’ll get deported!” she clutched her cheek as she started towards the door.

“Great! Fine! I hate it here anyways!” he shouted at her.

“I’ll make sure the police know just what kind of man they’re dealing with!” she whimpered, starting to coddle that cheek.

“Oh yea? Give them a heads up about what a bitch you are!” he raised his voice, the anger boiling at a higher and higher temperature.

“I pitied you!” she screamed, raising her voice back to the higher pitches.

“I’m gay!” he was not really thinking when that lie came out. He was not dissatisfied with it though.

Suddenly she blinked at him. She stared at him so stupidly for a long minute. She looked like she might tip over.

“You’re what?” she asked softly.

“Get out of my house, Cristine,” he pointed to the door.

She said nothing. She just turned and stepped outside. She closed the door behind her, her footsteps leading away from the door.

The silence was like a blanket of relief. The tension and the stress was gone. It was so overwhelming that he almost wanted to cry.

He took a deep breath, as he tried to center himself. This could not have been good for Esperanza. If she was listening to any of this, she was probably feeling somewhat like he was right now. He should check on her.


	10. Rooftop Blitz

Once she heard them yelling again, it felt safe. She grabbed her blue jacket and pulled it on. It was way too cold outside to be without a jacket. Worse, it was even colder up this high.

She climbed out over the window sill. She felt more confident this time. This time, she had already done this before. She was ready to step out and face what was to come.

She closed her eyes as the wind blew in her face. She took in the air with a deep breath. It was calming now. It was not so scary this time, she thought.

She looked down at the tiles and to the ground beyond them. Terror struck and her heart tried to leap out of her chest. For a moment, her mind leaped to terrifying stretches as she stared upon the area that could be her doom.

She looked up at the sky, “I’m a bird. I’m a little butterfly. I can do this. I can do this.”

She closed her eyes for another moment. She just needed a moment to calm herself down. She would be okay.

She looked again. Once again, her heart tried to break out of its cage. It just would not let her feel calm and relaxed. So much for trying to do this with no fear. There seemed to be no bravery in her.

She took another breath and grabbed her bag. She began to move. She just had to go in the direction that she was wanting. She had to keep her eyes up too. That was a bad combination, because one slip of her foot and suddenly she fell. She yelped, surprised by the slip.

She stared up at the sky, breathing carefully. She tried to be quiet, wary that somebody might hear her. She dared not bring her _uncle’s_ wrath down upon her. No telling what he would do next.

She was surprised to hear that the two adults were still yelling. The fight was going on longer than she could have hoped. The distraction would cover any noises she might make. She could make a clean get away, like a real professional spy or something.

She smiled to herself at that. She could totally be a spy. She could run away and become the best spy. She always liked secret agent movies. They usually dealt with guns, but she could be a humane spy, the kind of spy that’s just good at being sneaky. She would get information for people by being as sneaky as a ninja.

The wind whispered in her ear. It toyed with a lock of her hair, as if it was trying to tell her something. Despite all of its trying, it was all for naught. She did not know how to speak the wind’s language.

She could have dozed off and she never would have known. The sleepiness that had overcome her left her yawning. She shook it away with a cold shudder. It was so cold up here, in spite of her blue jacket.

She slowly shifted, moving to get her feet underneath of herself. She wanted to be upright again. She did not want to fall asleep up here and then find out that she had not been missed up until dinner.

“Just…one step in front of the other,” she recited a line she had been taught by her Italian language teacher.

One foot moved forward. Her balance shifted. The tile gave out without a question.

At first, her hand went to her mouth to stifle the yelp as she fell. She whimpered as her back landed hard this time. It hurt a lot and she suddenly wished she could just be inside where it was warm. It was cold and now her back hurt.

She could have heard a pin drop, it was so quiet. The silence reminded her that there were others around. The two adults were no longer fighting loudly though.

Seeing this as the end of the distraction, she decided to hurry. Moving on all fours, she hastened towards her destination. A tile gave out under her foot, then another gave out under her other knee. She looked to see a tile fall and break on the bricks below.

She swallowed back the feeling that overcame her. She would fight it until the end. She would not stop moving forward. She had too much weighing on this. She had too many questions that needed answers.

She hastened, pressing on faster, but a mass of tiles just gave away beneath her. With nothing to grip and push herself off of, her body began to slide. She started yelling for the tiles to stop, but they would not obey. She rolled aside onto some other tiles, but she could feel them loosen.

She looked around and realized that she was on the edge. One wrong move and she would topple to the bricks below. She was so close to her destination, but it had only brought her to the breaking point.

She was not thinking when a piercing scream left her mouth. She was not sure what she was screaming for but she was scared. She did not want to be here. She wanted to be safely inside. She wished she had not tried this and had stayed indoors like a good girl.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Maurizio heard a scream and his heart dropped. Surely Esperanza was still upstairs. She was in her room. There was no possibility that she had gotten outside.

Still, he followed the sound out to the street. Cristine had returned upon hearing the sound. The two looked at each other, unsure of what to say. He was certainly not sure what to do about her presence there.

“Rodney Rodney! RODNEY! Uncle Rodney!” he looked up to see Esperanza straddling the edge of the roof, “Get me down! Get me down! Get me down!” She was already bawling, with tears streaking down her face.

“Dio mio, Esperanza!” Cristine called, unable to react in this situation.

“You stay here and catch her if she falls,” he directed Cristine towards the building.

Without further explanation, he turned on his heel and sprinted. He knocked over a chair, but ignored it as he pounded up the stairs. He darted to the window and nearly leaped out.

“It’s okay sweetie! Just hold on!” he heard Cristine call to the girl.

“Rodney! Rodney! Where’s Rodney?!” Esperanza cried.

He thought quickly of a plan to keep himself from the same fate as Esperanza. He grabbed the bedding and began ripping and tearing and tying knots. He moved quickly, until he was finally able to get out onto the roof. One hand kept a tight hold of the bed sheet rope, while the other stayed outward for balance.

He stayed low, moving slowly across the roof. He had done this many times in his lifetime and it was not going to be much different. Except this time he was rescuing a seventy-something pound girl from falling.

“I’m right here,” he said softly.

“Look! Look! He’s right there!” Cristine pointed.

The girl twisted to try to look. Tiles loosened and she fell further off the edge. Her little eyes widened to dishes as her weight began to topple over the edge.

“Daddy!” she suddenly screamed.

He leaped at her, grasping with both hands. His feet became busy twisting around the rope to keep them from falling. He was relieved to have hooked his hands on her side and began lifting her weight back over the edge.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed, as he cautiously pulled her up. He made sure he had a safe hold on her, before pulling her on top of himself.

With the rope tied around his legs there were not many movements he could make. He forced every muscle in his torso to cooperate as he sat up. He kept a tight hold on the girl, as he scooted closer to the house’s wall.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. He needed to be calm so that he could calm her down. She was already whimpering in a high pitched voice. She curled into him, clutching at his clothes and trying to sink deeper into his arms. He held tightly to her, to let her feel like he would never let her go, not even a little slip.

When he had his breath again, he looked up at the sky. The wind was beating at his cheek, as if wanting to knock him off of the roof. Somehow, in spite the fact that he barely did anything, he felt so exhausted. Suddenly his mind was so tired and his eyes wanted to close. He wanted to just hold onto Esperanza there and relax, never moving.

“I’ll never let you go,” he told her softly.

She said something muffled against his shirt. He tugged on the back of her jacket with a hand. She looked up at his face, puffy red eyes staring back at him with relief and pain.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I love you,” she sniffled.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, “I love you too.”

His head turned and he noticed a whole suitcase. He blinked, stumped at seeing a whole suitcase up here. Maybe she had been attempting to get it? Why would she even have a suitcase here in the first place? What was she thinking?

“Esperanza, what were you doing up here?” he asked softly.

“I was trying to run away,” she croaked.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, growing more worried by the moment.

“Because I’m not happy,” she shook with a sob, “I want a family. I want to live in a home.”

“You _are_ in a home!” he insisted.

“I want a mommy and daddy,” she whimpered.

“You have-” he bit off his response.

She had a mommy, who died on their front stoop. She still had a daddy, who was off doing who knew what. For all Maurizio knew, the man was dead already. It would only be a matter of time before a mercenary off of respawn still active in fighting would get himself killed.

“I can’t promise you a family,” he sighed.

“I want to be with people like me,” she whined.

“Hey! Don’t be like that,” he protested, “You and I are a lot alike. Just because we’re a bit different, doesn’t mean anything. Mommies and daddies don’t share all likenesses with their kids.”

She rested her face against his front again, “I want to see what my mom was like.” She sounded so dejected when she said that, it broke his heart.

“Your mom…” he hesitated with a sigh. He looked up at the sky, trying to put together his memory of Melisa. “Your mom was pretty,” he told her.

“Really?” Esperanza croaked, “Are you just saying that?”

He looked at her, “No. You have her eyes. Of course she was pretty.”

She gave a small chuff of a giggle, before burying her face again. Her hands clutched his shirt. He felt some wetness from tears soaking through his clothing.

“She was very tough too,” he informed her, “She was a fighter. She was ready to pick up a gun and fight for you.”

“How do you know that?” Esperanza’s voice was hard to hear, with her face pressed against him.

“She did it,” he told her, “When she was pregnant with you…there were…bad men. She picked up a gun and she and your father fought.”

“They fought?” she looked up at him again, drawn in by what he was telling her.

“Of course,” he smiled at her, “Your father…he’s a fighter too. Not much of a looker though. More of a horse face.”

“A horse face?” she giggled, gleeful at description.

“Yea,” he smiled, gently stroking her hair back behind her ear.

“Where were they from?” she asked.

“Your mom? Somewhere in the United States,” he shrugged.

“And my dad?” she pressed.

“Australia,” he explained, “He’s a fantastic shot with a gun. Came from that place with the giant bugs.”

“Eww!” she squealed, “Giant bugs are so gross!”

“I know,” he chuckled.

“Where are they now?” she looked up at him again.

“I…” he paused, wishing he had a better answer than this. He wanted to just give up and say that he did not know. It would be lying, but it would be better than nothing. “Your mother is up in Heaven,” he told her.

“She’s with God,” she whispered, looking straight forward at his shirt.

“Your father…well…I’m not really sure,” he shrugged.

“How come?” she looked up at him again.

“Well,” he sighed, “Last I knew of…he was somewhere in the United States…I have no clue where he could be by now. It’s been years since we came here.”

“Why did we come here?” she pleaded, “Didn’t dad want me?” Her fingers started tightening their grip on his shirt.

“Of course he did,” he whispered, “I…he…” He sighed, pressing back against the wall of the house. “He must have wanted you. He just…he had some things to take care of in a dangerous…bad…he had to take care of bad guys. And you were just a small thing,” he explained.

“When I was little,” she stared at nothing as she thought about this.

“Mmhm,” he nodded, “Your mother was killed…and your godfather entrusted me with your safety.”

“My godfather?” her eyes lit up at that, “I had a godfather?”

“Well…” he paused and bit his lip. He had no idea if that man was dead or alive. “You had two grandfathers.”

She frowned, “They’re in Heaven too, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know,” he finally met her gaze fully.

“What were they like?” she asked.

“Oh very different,” he chuckled, “I didn’t know much about the one godfather…but he was from France. He was a pretty smart guy though. I think he was your dad’s very best friend. They were a sort of…team. The other…I knew him very well. We were very good friends. His name was Andrew.”

“What was he like?” she pressed for more.

“Oh…not very tall, but very muscular. Looks like he could bend a bench in half,” he chuckled to him as he reminisced, “Sweet guy though. He was very fond of you. When he met you as a baby, he had the biggest dopiest smile. I think he was friends with your mom too.”

“So…they’re all gone now, huh?” she asked, looking up at him with sad eyes.

He turned away, “I don’t know.”

“How come?” she pressed.

“I can’t just…know,” he closed his eyes, “They were all off…doing things. They were getting rid of bad people.”

“Were they police officers?” she asked.

He looked at her face. He wished he had not. Her eyes were twinkling like brilliant little stars.

“Well…not really…” he spoke hesitantly.

“What were they then?” she asked, losing all of the happiness as her face sank.

“Well-” they were interrupted by the sound of somebody climbing out the window.

He turned to see Cristine climbing out. She glanced around before seeing them. It was nice to see that she at least came to make sure that they were alright.

“There you are!” she sighed with relief, “I was worried about you.”

“I wanna go inside,” Esperanza shivered, despite the protection of her jacket.

He passed the girl off to Cristine. Once the two of them were in the window, he made his way towards it. His feet felt unsteady underneath of him. Suddenly, they no longer had the goal of rescuing the little girl and all he could think about was how high he was. He made a beeline to the window and practically jumped through it.


	11. Home is Where Esperanza Is

Maurizio checked over everything. The whole house was clean, as far as he could tell. It had been a lot of work but it seemed fairly worth it. Everything was sorted and no evidence of criminal activity was left behind. It would be best for police not to think he was some sort of criminal worth chasing.

Looking on it now, it seemed like such a shame. What memories they had made here would never be the same. They would be leaving this place behind. All of those treasured memories would be long behind them, while they were off to the next adventure, to a new home.

A small hand tugged on his sleeve. He looked down at Esperanza, who gazed back up at him with hopeful eyes. The wonder in those big globes filled his heart with the realization that it did not matter what the next home would be. This would be in their memories, and he would make more memories with this girl.

“What will you do about work?” she asked, blinking away the sleepiness.

“Work?” he paused to think about this.

“Won’t they be mad if you aren’t there tomorrow morning?” she inquired.

He thought about telling her not to worry about it. He normally would just try to make her believe that he had it taken care of in the nicest way possible. All ends tied up perfectly. All ducks in a row.

This was not the time to be lying. He had to stop lying to her. He had to be more honest with her. She was growing up after all. She would have to know the truth about her life sooner or later. He might as well start now, before she got the wrong idea again.

“They’re going to be mad, until the police find that a couple of immigrants have turned up missing,” he informed her.

“Oh,” she paused for thought, eyes starting to glaze over.

“Is something on your mind?” he asked with a gentle voice.

“Nothing…I just…” she hesitated, staring up at him.

“Yes?” he pressed.

“Where will we go now?” she asked, her voice softening to something weak and scared.

He placed a gentle hand on her head, “Wherever we go, we’ll be okay. We’re off to the next destination.”

“Where is that?” she pressed, tugging on his sleeve a bit more.

He snagged her hand, interlinking their fingers. He offered her a fond smile. He hoped she would someday understand that they had to do this for her safety. He hoped she could forgive him for the lies and the years she spent feeling lost.

“Wherever we want to go,” he shrugged.

“Where do you want to go?” she asked, leading the way to the car.

He looked up to see the car prepped and ready for them. As promised, the girl had packed clothes and filled the trunk and backseat with the most necessary things. He was a bit surprised to see a large radio, a stack of CDs, books and a lamp.

“I think that’s too many things,” he reached in to pick up the lamp.

“Wherever we go, I’m gonna need light!” she protested fervently.

He hesitated, before gently placing it back into the car, “What about all of these CDs?”

“Listening to you talk is going to get boring!” she gave him the most exasperated look, “I need entertainment. I’m only so old!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he placed a CD he picked up back on the stack, “How about the books?”

“Don’t separate me from friends!” she protested. She suddenly slapped a hand over her mouth.

He raised his hands defensively, “Alright, okay. I won’t.”

Satisfied at his agreement, she climbed into the passenger seat in the front. He walked around the vehicle to get behind the wheel. He put it into gear and started down the road, following the route he had memorized from the map. They would have to take a long trip to get far from this area.

“So where are we going?” the girl asked, eagerly.

“I was thinking of Sicily,” he suggested.

“Where’s that?” she blinked at him with big eyes.

“Down south,” he shrugged, “I think you’ll like it there.”

“Is that where you grew up?” she asked.

“No,” he glanced at the old Catholic church they had gone to with Cristine and Cristoforo, “I grew up in Rome. I moved down south when I became a driver.”

“You became a driver? For what?” she pressed on.

He chuckled, “Well, during high school, I worked at a mechanic shop. They had connections, and put me into a race with one of their built from scrap vehicles. I got discovered by scouts, and I went into racing.”

“You were a racecar driver?!” she exclaimed with disbelief, “How come you never told me that?”

He shrugged, “It’s better that…some people…some people around here in Italy…don’t know that I had any connections as a youth.”

“Well tell me! Tell me! Tell me more!” she insisted.

He went on and on with his memories. He reminisced about racing. He reminisced about old cars. He briefly mentioned a few firsts, skipping over the inappropriate ones, despite popping up in his memories. He reminisced about the most wonderful woman who had ever taken his hand, and how she used to make him so happy. He recounted how a mere incident had devastated his life, but she was still with him through it all.

“Wow,” she interrupted his story, “That’s big of her.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” he shrugged. He wished he had been a better role model though, given that she seemed to think that it was big of somebody to be supportive of somebody else.

“She stuck with you even when you did not have any money anymore,” she went on, not noticing his discomfort.

He frowned at her, “Money isn’t everything.”

“It’s everything I need,” she said, slouching down on the seat, moving her knees closer to the glove box, “Guys gotta make that money.” She rubbed two fingers to her thumb in a monetary gesture. “Or else, how would a girl survive?” she asked, shrugging in a dramatic gesture.

He chuckled at her ideas, “Just because the traditional sense of man and woman is for a man to support the woman, doesn’t mean a woman cannot support herself.”

“But how is she going to pay rent, if men don’t make money?” Esperanza argued.

“Oh boy,” he laughed, shaking his head, “What do they teach you at that school?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head, “I learned nothing at that school. That school is only for gifted and smart people, like Cristoforo.”

“The boy who never talks? The weird kid that doesn’t make eye contact when speaking?” he asked.

“Yea, that kid,” Esperanza shrugged, “He’s like the top student in math. Science is like second nature to him. He gets As in like…everything. Except English. He doesn’t do well in English class.”

“I thought you didn’t take English,” he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t, but he does,” she explained, “Apparently, Cristine wanted him to learn English. It’s more useful than French.”

“Not as beautiful,” Maurizio protested.

“No, but it’s why moms like Cristine push their kids at me,” Esperanza shook her head, “I’m popular as shit, but I gotta make that mons! Which means that guys gotta make the money!”

“Esperanza!” he barked at her, “Do not use that language!”

“What?” she blinked at him, “We’ve been speaking it all the time.”

“Do not use foul language,” he growled.

“What? Mons?” she blinked at him again.

“Do not say the S word again,” he scorned.

“What? Shit? People say it in movies all the time,” she shrugged, dismissively.

“Just because you saw it in a movie, does not mean you should emulate it in life,” he told her.

“What? What’s wrong with me saying it?” she scoffed.

“Because you’re a kid, and it is inappropriate for kids to cuss,” he informed her.

“What’s cuss?” she asked.

“It’s um…” he drew a blank on that question. He was not sure what to answer with. Cussing was with bad words right? “It’s when you speak bad words and say nasty things,” he explained, “A cuss word is a bad word. You should never say those.”

“Why the fuck not?” she asked in a higher pitch than usual.

He pulled the car over and unbuckled his seatbelt. He was not about to let the girl get away with cussing. No, if he was going to raise this kid, he was going to raise her right. If she was living with him, she would not be using any nasty language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this story. The beginning of their journey.


End file.
